


If You Love Me, Never Let Me Go

by implicit_despair, TheBruhTheGenieAndTheYam, universal_colors



Series: If You Love Me, Never Let Me Go [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Dan - Freeform, Dan and Phil Soulmate, Dan and Phil Soulmate AU, Dan and Phil love, Goth - Freeform, Hospital, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love, M/M, POV Multiple, PTSD, Phandom - Freeform, Phil - Freeform, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, Van - Freeform, Van Goth, Writer's Block, band au, first work in this fandom, trigger warning?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-21 23:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12468224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/implicit_despair/pseuds/implicit_despair, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBruhTheGenieAndTheYam/pseuds/TheBruhTheGenieAndTheYam, https://archiveofourown.org/users/universal_colors/pseuds/universal_colors
Summary: Your soulmate's name appears on your arm when you hear their voice, what happens if that voice is coming through your stereo?





	1. Voices from the Stereo

‘ _ THE NEWEST HIT BAND _ ’, read the headlines. The band, Van Goth, had become an international sensation overnight.

 

Music blasted from Phil’s stereo speakers that he had bought on a shopping spree a few weeks back. He had not used it until then. Phil had contemplated putting it in a third installment of his ‘things I regret buying’ franchise but decided to listen to the band, Van Goth, that was all over Twitter.  Many people take Phil as the kind of guy who doesn’t really listen to emo music, but as he walked around his flat, listening to Van Goth, he began to feel a sense of completion; like the band was what his ears were craving for the 30 years he had been alive.

 

First came the intro, the drums and the guitar harmonizing perfectly together. Then the keyboard kicked in and took the song to a whole new level. But it was the voice that tied everything in together, joining the instruments seamlessly as if it was a tool that could be played just as easily as a triangle. The  voice was like thunder echoing through Phil’s very being. The feeling was intoxicating and Phil found himself wanting more.

 

Phil guiltily binge played their songs, putting each song on repeat multiple times to satisfy his needs. When he finished his last round of songs, he sat on his sofa and looked at his window. A faint orange glow shined through his day curtains and illuminated his flat with a warm aura, something he looked forward to in the evening. He got up and walked over to his kitchen and filled up his kettle with water and set it on the hot stove. Then, he went over to his cupboard, pulled out his favourite mug and plunked a tea bag in. The adrenaline from listening to Van Goth had not washed out yet. When his kettle let out a loud screech, he poured the steaming water into his mug and drank his tea while thoughts of going to a Van Goth concert circled his mind. 

 

“What are you doing?” The voice startled Phil, causing him to spill some of the hot liquid onto his hand. He turned around, it was his roommate Adrian. He was wearing black sweatpants with a potato sack-esc sweater. Adrian closed the gap between him and Phil, he snatched his mug out of his hands and sniffed it. “Seriously man? Tea? AGAIN?” He walked over to the kettle, still on the stove, and poured himself a cup of tea. “Tea’s disgusting, I have no idea why you drink it!”, he exclaimed as he sipped his tea. He lowered his tea quickly, splashing a few tea drops on Phil. “Now, where did those crumpets go?”

Phil left the kitchen and went back to his room, where he settled onto his blue and green bed and opened his laptop. He moved his mouse over the safari button and clicked. He searched ‘Van Goth’. The band members popped up. ‘Samuel Lombard’, read the first result. He was the lead guitarist, according to a fan page, created by the user  _ @VanGoth#1Fan<3 _ . He had perfect, creamy white skin. His honey brown, windswept hair perfectly complimenting his sky blue eyes. His silver lip ring made him look tough, and made him look enticing. 

 

The second member listed was ‘James Peterson’, the drummer. His platinum blonde hair covered half his face. He had incredible peach skin, which played well with his greenish-hazel eyes. He had a smooth, gold nose ring, making his innocent look fade away into the background. 

 

The third was ‘Pierce Blume’, the keyboardist. His dark skin looked like a delicious chocolate bar that any woman would love to bite into. He had a long face and deep, dark brown eyes. He had extremely short dark brown hair and his lips were plump and ripe like they were stung by a dozen bees.

 

Phil scrolled down and gasped when he saw the last band member. Adrian walked into the room and looked at him weirdly, until deciding Phil was just being normal Phil, obsessing over silly things. He slowly backed out, afraid he would become infected by whatever disease Phil had. 

 

But for Phil, this was not like any normal celebrity crush or obsession he had ever had. He was looking into the eyes of the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Phil felt something inside him, something he had not felt for anybody else he knew. But the thing that surprised him the most? This gorgeous person… was a man. Phil had to hold back tears as he stared into the alluring face of Dan Howell, the lead singer of Van Goth. 

 

Phil yawned and looked at his bedside clock,  _ 5:35 AM.  _ He shook his head, how could’ve he been awake for so long just searching up band members? Phil lifted his duvet and stood up, put on a sweater to compensate for the cold night and went out to the kitchen once more. As he walked through the narrow hallways of his flat, music came sounding loudly from Adrian’s room. Phil nestled his ear on the door and listened.

 

_ “If you love me, never let me go, _

_ Don’t let me fall like the beautiful snow, _

_ I just want you to know, _

_ I love you and I’ll never let you go.” _

 

Being allured by the music, Phil began to sing. Softly as a whisper, to as loud as in a mosh pit. He sang his heart out to every lyric that he had memorized during the day. Phil danced around the hallway, carelessly bouncing off the walls. Phil shut his eyes and let the music take over. He pranced along the hallways, hoping nobody was watching him. Suddenly, Phil heard a crash. He opened his eyes and saw that he had crashed into Adrian’s favorite pot. 

 

Adrian rushed downstairs, thinking there was a burglar or that the world was finally ending. But what he found was much, much worse. Phil had broken his favorite pot. The one he was proud of, he had made it when he was in the 4th grade. When he saw Phil sprawled on the ground looking guilty, he let out a scream. “WHAT THE HELL DUDE?”, he yelled. Phil looked up in defeat. 

 

Adrian let out a deep breath. “You’re lucky I made like, twenty of them.”, he sighed. “Ok, get changed, I’m taking you out to breakfast,” Phil smirked, finding a chance to tease Adrian. “You’re taking me out? Am I your girlfriend or something?” Adrian rolled his eyes and said, “You know I have a boyfriend, right?” He left the room before Phil could answer, but could hear Phil chuckling as he hurried out. 

Phil walked into his room, contemplating what to wear. He decided that if he put some music on, he could decide quicker. He connected his phone to his speaker and pressed the bright green icon with three curved, black lines. Spotify opened, and Phil clicked  _ ‘SHUFFLE’ _ . His new favorite song, ‘If You Love Me, Never Let Me Go’ by Van Goth, came on. He found himself swaying to the music. Almost in a hypnotized state, he changed out of his pink and purple long-sleeved pajamas into a long-sleeved black shirt and faded blue jeans. Adrian came into his room and told him to hurry up. 

 

Adrian and Phil walked to a cafe about a block from their flat. It was still a little dark and you could sense the gloominess in the air. It seemed the city was only starting to wake up, and that the sunshine finally came out, as if to say “Good morning, Phil.” They walked in silence, only speaking to say a polite “hello” to passersby. They were used to this, they were such good friends that they didn’t have to communicate through words. They almost had a telepathic connection. 

 

They soon arrived at the cafe. Phil ordered a plate full of pancakes, and Adrian ordered some scones. Phil stared outside at a tree swaying in the morning winds as Adrian was finishing a text. “I invited Cameron over, hope you don’t mind.”, said Adrian, cautiously as he put his phone away. Phil felt the rage inside him grow. He strongly disliked Cameron (Phil didn’t like to use the word ‘hate’), he had no idea why. Ever since the first encounter Phil built up a distaste for him and his attitude. Luckily for him, the feeling was mutual.  Phil put his head in his hands just as he received his food. He down looked at his generous stack of pancakes as the waitress placed a napkin next to him. Purple lipstick was smeared over the top faintly resembling a name and a phone number.

 

“Another one?”, exclaimed Adrian, smirking as he picked up the napkin. “You always get the ladies, when will one of ‘em be interested in me?” They both shared a laugh. “You know you’re gay right?” They chuckled just as a reminder of Adrian’s gayness walked through the door. Cameron. “Ah,” said Adrian, moving over in order to give space to Cameron, “just the reminder I needed.” Cameron sat down next to his boyfriend and gave him a playful kiss on the cheek. “What did I remind you of?” Cameron asked, stealing a chunk of his scone. “That I’m gay,” replied Adrian while stuffing scones into his mouth. Both of them laughed and shared a long kiss (which Phil would call a smooch), before remembering Phil was there with them. 

 

“Phil!” Cameron said in an enthusiastic voice, Phil could hear his sarcasm hidden behind the cherubic greeting. Phil swallowed his last slice of pancake and smiled. “Long time no see.” They shook hands, “Indeed, long time.” An awkward silence cut through the air. Phil pulled out his phone and checked the time, a mere half hour has passed. “I think I’ll head off,” said Phil, shimmying his way out of the booth. He placed a £5 note on the table, “this should cover most of it.” Adrian waved his hand, “See ya later, mate.” Phil smiled at Cameron and Adrian, who were snuggling up and taking advantage of the privacy, and headed for the door.

 

The cold November air breezed through Phil’s hair as the walked along the shops on the sidewalks of London. Despite London being a rainy country, today wasn’t. The sun was out, lighting every corner of the road. A bus drove noisily passed Phil as he took out his keys to open the door to his flat. After enduring the long walk up the stairs, he sat down on the sofa, switched on his television and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. Automatically a reporter popped up on his screen with the headline ‘ _ FANS GOING WILD! FAKING SOULMATES?’.  _ He listened intently. “Fans of the sensational hit band, Van Goth have been doing the extreme since they announced that they’ll be going on a tour this coming year.” The woman’s face changed from being all intense to a serious face which Phil could only describe as a parent’s concerned face. The woman continued. “Various reports from parents say that their teens have been writing the lead singer’s name, Daniel Howell, on their arms. Some even going the extreme and actually TATTOOING his name permanently. Here’s Moira Porter on the story.” 

 

Phil switched off his television, he couldn’t believe that other people in the fandom would do such a thing. Sure, he was a HUGE fan too, but he wouldn’t go the extreme and fake his soulmate. He always expected his soulmate to be a girl he’d meet online. He would ask for her number and then hear her voice then see her name appear on his arm. The girl would ask him if her name appeared and he would say yes and ask the same thing, she would also say yes. That was his fantasy, and still, at 30 years old, no name has appeared. Phil sighed at the realization of this and went into the kitchen, he had regretted not ordering a coffee.

 

He switched on the coffee machine and poured some grinded beans in, set a coffee filter down and waited for the coffee to brew. Phil glanced at a pug wall clock which he had bought back at Manchester, it read 7:53. His coffee machine let out a loud beep as Adrian slammed the front door of the flat. “Phil! Where you at?” Phil picked a mug which had a colourful bird on it and started pouring the hot brown liquid heaven. “I’m in the kitchen!” He replied. He could hear Adrian’s footsteps as they echoed down the hallway, Adrian appeared at the glass kitchen door. “Oh, yeah that’s better. Coffee. Pour me some won’t cha?” Phil rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, “Sure, hand me a mug.” Adrian handed Phil a mug, which he received in a way that exposed his inner arm.

 

“Whoa! Mate, where’d you get that sick tattoo?” Adrian laughed, “did ya stop at a tattoo parlour on the way home?” Phil looked at his roommate in confusion, he hadn’t recalled getting a tattoo, and he hadn’t gotten drunk these past few weeks. “What do you mean? I didn’t get a tattoo-” His voice drifted off as he realized what had actually happened. He looked down at his pale arm and saw two words that were barely illegible, but Phil could still make out the letters. He examined them carefully and opened his mouth in complete shock. 

 

_ Daniel Howell _ , it read.


	2. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Phil ready for life with a soulmate who doesn't know he exists?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N ♡  
> Thank you for all of your fantastic feedback! This is our first time writing and we deeply appreciate it if you continue with the constructive criticism. Just a few questions we would like to address (before y’all start asking): 
> 
> Do each and every one of you contribute to each chapter?  
> Yes, all of us do write. The Yam is our main writer/editor, but we all pitch something.
> 
> How many chapters will you have in this story?  
> We’re not sure yet, but it sure as hell won’t be ending anytime soon.
> 
> How long will each chapter be?  
> We try to make our chapters between 1,500 and 2,000 words long.
> 
> How often will you be updating?  
> Don’t worry, we won’t make you wait more than 2 weeks for each chapter… most of the time (we’re busy with other things as well).
> 
> Where do babies come from?  
> Storks...
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

“Sh*t,” Phil exclaimed. He didn’t like to use strong language, especially on his channel, but as extreme as the situation was he felt as if it were necessary. Adrian gave him a puzzled look. “Mate, what’s wrong?” Phil lowered the sleeve of his sweater hoping that Adrian wouldn't notice. “Phil, is that-” Phil cut him off, “What? No, no, no! It's just-um, video ideas?” Phil himself was never good at lying. “Stop bullshitting me,” said Adrian, he grabbed Phil’s arm gripping it with full force and rolled up his sleeve.

 

“Aha!” Adrian yelled as he read the name on Phil’s sleeve. “So you’re another one of those ‘extreme fans’ tattooing Daniel’s name onto your inner arm?” Phil started to shake his head vigorously, Adrian just laughed. “Nah, you’re okay mate. No fetish shaming in the household.” He gave Phil a pat on the back. “Buh-but-” Adrian kept laughing. Phil’s usual enthusiastic smile had been drowned out with the colour, his face was almost translucent. Adrian’s laugh slowly faded into the silence.

 

“Uh, okay. So you’re trying to tell me that… Daniel Howell, the most amazing singer in the world, is your soulmate?” Phil nodded, shook his head, then nodded again. Adrian huffed and plopped down on the sofa. “Crap. Well, then you’ve got a problem there, man. Tons of crazed fangirls are claiming to be Dan’s soul mate, how is he going to believe that you’re the one? More importantly, how would you get his attention?”

 

Adrian put his feet up on the sofa, his dirty blond hair a mess. “And then there’s the thing about the kiss. You do know that if you don’t kiss him within 74 days, you die, right?” Phil’s eyes widened. He had forgotten about that. In schools, instead about learning puberty, students had to learn about soulmates. They government had insisted on it as the death rate due to not meeting your soulmate had tripled from the time Phil was born. “Thanks for reassuring me,” replied Phil with undertones of sarcasm. “Hah, but don’t worry. That soulmate stuff is complete bullshit. Like, Cameron and I are definitely soulmates, but I don’t see his name on my arm!” He may not believe the soulmate stuff, but Phil did, and now he had to kiss his idol in 74 days.  

 

❊❊❊

 

Phil hadn’t bothered with the pleasantries when he entered his parents’ house in Manchester.  He still had the spare keys they gave him when he moved to his own apartment. There was a dog keychain dangling from it as he left it on the door. He immediately walked into the living room, where his mum was drinking a cup of tea. She jumped as she saw him, spilling the hot liquid on the floor. She set down the mug on the coffee table and stood up. “Phil! I didn’t know you’d be coming, darling!” Phil’s mum walked across the room toward him and spread open her arms and went in for a hug. Phil shuddered, _if only she knew why I’m actually here_ , he thought.

 

He gave his mum a quick squeeze before letting suddenly letting go. “Did Adrian kick you out of your apartment?” his mother asked, before quietly muttering under her breath, “again”.  “Mum, seriously? Adrian didn’t kick me out. I just… missed you.” Phil’s mum looked at him quizzically, before shrugging and turning around. “Well, you’re here now. Might as well help me with the dishes!” Phil rolled his eyes, but followed her. His internal clock was ticking, and this was only the first wall to break down.

 

They went into the kitchen, where a stack of dirty plates laid by the sink. A broken highchair stood in the corner, Phil recognized it as his own from when he was young, those simpler times. The tap started to run as his mom took out a sponge and scrubbed each dish one by one. Phil stopped staring at the high chair, grabbed a towel and dried off each plate. “Your dad’s out, buying some groceries. We’re having steak tonight!” She smiled, as she shook the droplets off her hands. “Let’s sit by the fireplace, shall we? Winter here has been particularly brutal these days, I wonder how your train ride was?”

They both sat down at the fireplace, conversing over hot cocoa. Phil felt like a child again, being embraced by his mom’s gaze again and sitting in his childhood home. It was like everything was back to when he didn’t have a care in the world about his soulmate. He would just play freely with his brother, Martyn, playing make-believe and with horrific toys, their parents would buy them. Phil’s arm was still exposed, hoping that his mom would bring it up instead of him having the breach the idea.

 

His mum smiled and took a sip of the hot drink. “So, any exciting things happening in Philip Lester’s life?” She asked. He shrugged, and turned over his arm, revealing the name which was still yet to completely show up. Despite his attempt, his mum didn’t notice.  “Nothing? Come’on, I’m sure there’s something.” This is your chance Phil, he thought to himself, just tell her. “Well, I mean there’s-” He was cut off when the doorbell rang. His mum stood up and set her drink down, “That must be your father! I told him to bring his own keys.” She walked over to the door as Phil rolled down his sleeves. _Damnit_.

 

Phil could hear them over in the foyer, conversing about how the trip to the store went and what he bought. His parents both walked to the kitchen, passing by the entrance to the living room, yet they ignored him. Phil glanced the family photo hooked onto each wall. There was one for every birthday, and for Martyn’s. All those memories made Phil all nostalgic, so he decided to get up and greet his dad in the kitchen.

 

As he walked through the hallway, he tried his best to calm down. His hands turned into lakes of sweat and his hair turned into a grease pool while chatting with his mum. He wiped his hands on his jeans and walked in confidently, concealing all previous emotions. His dad noticed him right away, turning his head at the sight of his tall, lean, shadow. “Phil! I didn’t know you’d be coming.” He gave his son a bear hug before pulling back and unwrapping the steak from the package. “Why’d you not give us a ring?” He took an apron from the hanger and tied it around himself, “Ah, it’s still good to see you boy.”

 

Phil helped his parents cook the steak, standing as far away from the stove as possible. The steak sizzled, oil bubbles popping leaving a layer of drizzle on the counter top. His dad chuckled, stating that it was good that they had to clean the stove cause that meant they had something to cook and eat. Once the cooking fiasco was done and over with, they all sat down at the dining table in a dimly lit room and ate. The steak was easy to cut into and melted in your mouth. Phil had seasoned it, hence it being a bit too salty.

 

His parents had poured a glass of wine for each of them. Phil picked up his glass and swirled it around, watching a deep plum whirlpool forming. He looked up at his parents, who were reminiscing on Phil’s childhood. “Do you remember his first word?” said his dad, who set down an empty wine glass. His mum smiled, “It was light, wasn’t it? That’s all you would say, Phil!” They laughed, as his mum refiled his dad’s glass, telling him it was his last for the night. His dad finished the glass in less than a minute after his refill. He stood up sporadically, causing Phil to jump in his seat, “Let’s clean this up later, we need to catch up lad!”

 

They sat down at the fireplace once again, but this time it was all three of them. The topics were about the usual, what he was doing with his life, how Adrian was doing and what his parents were up to. Phil almost forgot why he was actually there, and what he was yet to face. The thought of telling them started a waterfall at his temples. “Philip! My, is it too hot in here? I better turn the heating-” He cut his mum off, “No, mum it’s okay. Just, there’s something that needs telling.” His parents exchanged looks, as his mum shifted in closer. “Philip, what’s wrong?”

 

He inhaled deeply (and loudly) as he stared into each of his parent’s eyes. “Mom, dad, I’m…” his voice trailed off as he moved his gaze onto the floor. “What?” His dad asked as Phil pulled up his sleeve, exposing the letters. They had darkened since the last time he’s read them, and they were more legible than ever now. His parent’s eyes wandered to his inner arm, reading the name that had been etched with a dark black ink, not by a tattoo artist but by a voice. His dad got up and walked up the stairs without a single sound until a door slammed.

His mum reached out and hugged him, as they whispered back and forth, “ _It’s okay_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to get a little complicated next chapter! Are you guys ready to find out?


	3. Fanboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil wants to get to a concert and find Dan, fast! He can't do it on his own, though, and will get help from a newly found friend!

Phil sat stiffly on the way back from his parents’ house. It was 10:30 PM by the time he had boarded the train, so the train was fairly empty. The only other person in Phil’s carriage was a middle aged woman, who sat a few rows behind him, focused on knitting a pastel blue scarf. Phil sighed and leaned his head against the window, it was almost pitch black outside, and the stars had started to make their appearance; their bright exterior in contrast to the dark sea of sky.

 

He went over what had happened at his parents’ house multiple times, replaying the whole scenario in his head like a movie. Phil remembered each detail vividly, and his head had started to throb due to overthinking. He knew his parents didn’t mind gayness, but the look in his father’s eyes when he left made Phil think he was changing his mind on the topic. 

 

Phil sank down into the uncomfortable chair. It had been layered with a single piece of foam, and a blue and orange checkered patterned fabric on top of that. He took out his phone from his pocket, he hadn’t brought a bag with him since he knew that the reaction wasn’t going to be anywhere near pleasant. He glanced at the time on his phone, it read 10:43 PM. 

 

Phil put his phone away, closed his eyes, and dreamt of a man. The man was standing in the middle of a dark space, his clothing completely black and spikes along his bracelet that rested on his right arm. His face was still blurry to Phil, but he could make out the colours of his face.  _ Perfectly tanned skin, just the right amount of lip, brown eyes- _ Then the face became clear to Phil as he jolted out of his dream.  _ Dammit _ , he thought. His eyes widened when he realized that the man in his dream was him.  _ Dan. _

 

He shook his head in reassurance, and closed his eyes once more. He drifted off into a deep sleep.  _ Puffins, _ he thought unconsciously,  _ the last episode of Game of Thrones,  Van Goth, shouting- _ Phil opened his eyes and saw a tall man dressed in a dark blue uniform holding a whistle. “Alrighty mate, we’ve made our way to London,” said the man, “You might want to leave yeah? Everyone else has already left!” He laughed as he helped Phil, who was still half asleep, to his feet.

 

Phil made his way out of the train, squinting at the bright sun blaring from above. He looked around the platform, the other woman who was on his carriage was with a girl, no older than Phil. She wore a broad smile as the woman handed her a pastel blue scarf, the one she was knitting earlier. Although it was one of the rare days the sun was out, the girl still wrapped it around her neck, thanking the older woman multiple times.

 

Phil walked over to the taxi stand and got in one of the several cars waiting for tourists. He told the driver where he wanted to go, and got comfortable in his seat.  _ Here we go _ , he thought,  _ 72 days left. _

 

\--

 

The driver dropped Phil off a block away from his destination, forcing him to walk in the drizzle of rain dropping from the sky. After a short wet walk later, Phil stopped in front of a huge building. It was primarily grey with hints of colour. There were several groups coming in and out, with pieces of paper in their hand. Phil saw a group, huddled by the entrance taking photos of the same pieces of paper the other groups had. He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets as he waded through the groups to get to the entrance. 

 

“Omigosh Phil! Phil!” screamed someone as Phil was walking through the automatic door. He turned to face the voice. There was a petite girl, probably around 15, waving both her hands at Phil. She shrieked when he turned and rushed up to him in a harmony of skips and jogs. “H-h-hi!” She said in between breaths, “I-I’m Maureen probably your biggest fan-You know I like the video where you-” Phil nodded intently as he pretended to listen. Maureen continued as Phil caught eye of the long line for the ticket booth. 

 

“Excuse me,” said Phil, pushing past Maureen who stumbled, but was still rambling on. He pushed passed the busy crowds, each of them eyeing him as he squished through the narrow gaps. Phil panted as he reached a wide open space near an exit, a place where he could clearly see a woman in a booth sticking on a red sign to the class. Phil read it with dread, ‘ _ VAN GOTH TICKETS SOLD OUT’ _ .  The people who had still been in the line congregated into small groups, pushing pass Phil to get to the exit. He could hear their disappointment in each step, the sighing of the parents, and the crying of each and every fan. Hardly any of them were Phil’s age, mostly teenage girls. 

 

“Oh,” said Maureen as he tapped Phil’s shoulder, “were you going to get tickets?” Phil nodded, and swallowed, of course he wanted these fans to get tickets as well, but he felt as if his situation were more extreme. He turned to face Maureen and placed his hands on her shoulder. Phil estimated she was about 5’2”, a foot shorter, as had to stretch his arms down to meet her shoulders. “Thank you for watching my videos, Mary,” said Phil as he headed towards the exit. He could hear footsteps trailing right behind him. “It’s Maureen, by the way.” 

 

As he exited, he turned around as Maureen halted. He tilted his head, “Are you following me?” She jumped, not expecting the question, “You mean on social media? Omigosh I follow you on EVERY. SINGLE. PLATFORM!” Her face was dominated by a wide grin. Phil replied, “Well thanks for your support Maggie.” He continued on walking, “Wait! I have tickets! TWO! I could give one to you!” She shouted behind him. Phil stood still, he would do anything, ANYTHING, for tickets at this point. He turned around as Maureen appeared right behind him. “See!” She pulled out the tickets from her sky blue backpack with Phil’s name in Japanese on it. The tickets had the band’s signature logo on the top. His hand grazed over the seat row and number. They were front row seats, perfect for being noticed.

 

“Y-y-you,” Phil stuttered, “want to give t-these to me?” Maureen laughed. “Well,” she took out a notebook (uncoincidentally it was from Phil’s merch store). She cleared her throat as she flipped through the pages, she stopped at one and read aloud. “Phil Lester, in order for you to receive one of these tickets,” she held them like a fan, “you must agree to one condition.” Phil’s head remained tilted, “And…?” Her smile started to emitted a strange tone, almost evil like. “You must go to the concert with,” she bowed, “YOURS TRULY!” Maureen skipped around in a little circle, “Easy enough, right?” Phil nodded, as a lump in his throat started to form. “Whatever you want, Maria, as long as I can get to that concert.” 

 

Phil started walking to the road to call a taxi, when he realized Maureen was following him. “Where are we going now? Your place, a hotel!? If it’s a hotel, I expect nothing less than a 5 star one-” He glanced back at her as he started to stick his hand out on the road, to hail a taxi, “Uhm, what? No-no, we’re getting you to YOUR home. Where are your parents?” Maureen laughed. “Well, the concert is in a couple of days, and I kinda need a place to stay… I live in New York.” His jaw had landed on the ground with a thud,  _ Is this girl insane? _ Maureen rubbed both thumbs together while forcing her head down to look at her shoes. He sighed and ran his pale hand through his pitch black hair, “Fine, tonight you stay on the sofa. But tomorrow, we’re finding you a hotel. And  _ you’re  _ paying for it.” 

 

After the ridiculously loud taxi ride home, Phil plopped down on his couch as Maureen towered over him. Despite being confident skipping up to Phil, she seemed awkward in this situation. She obviously hadn’t expected to be in her idol’s house. He closed his eyes and appreciated the silence around him, then again, taking a taxi was much better than riding the bus with an engine so loud you could hear it a mile away. “So, what am I supposed to do?” asked Maureen as she glanced around the living room of her idol. Phil rubbed his eyes with his rough hands, “I’m sure you’ll figure that out yourself.”

 

He dozed off into a light sleep, aware of Maureen wandering around his house, but he was too tired to do anything about her. Soon enough, Phil suddenly wasn’t aware of anything but the blank screen that represented his dreams. Phil enjoyed the silence, the peacefulness studio where all worries had dispersed into thin air, and he was more than welcome to wreck the place otherwise. He appreciated this state of mind, it was almost like a clean slate. But it didn’t last long, Phil was soon awakened by a loud bang that sounded like it came from the kitchen. 

 

Phil grabbed the clock that was in reach and read the time, 2:43 AM. Had he been in his dream studio for that long? He set the clock down on the sofa as he pushed himself up, causing a cracking noise from the clock he was putting pressure on. As he waddled his way to the kitchen, a series of screams had erupted, causing Phil to pick up his pace.  _ Ah, Maureen and Adrian. Why didn’t I think of that great combination? _

 

Phil reached the kitchen, blinded by the purely white lights that beamed from the ceiling. His eyes were still blurred by sleep, but he still knew that standing in front of him was a shouting Adrian and a terrified Maureen; both of which were too caught up in their emotions to care about Phil spectating their ongoing commotion. “Jesus Maureen! YOU MADE A FUCKING MESS!” screamed Adrian, who was gesturing to the heaping pile of glass that laid scattered on the ground. “I’m sorry! Okay,” said Maureen, who was rubbing her left arm with the opposite hand. “Doesn’t matter, you’re cleaning.” Maureen clothed her face with a frown as she sighed heavily, “Adriannnn-” To which Adrian responded with a single finger raised up, placed on the shorter girl’s lips. 

 

Phil, clearly being confused by the situation, cleared his throat which got the attention of Adrian. Maureen, still being reprimanded by his roommate, stood as still as a tree. “Hey mate!” said Adrian, who still had his finger placed on the teenager’s lips. He looked at the glass, “Oh, yeah,” he scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I came in and found Maureen next to it. Assumed she must’ve broken the blumming thing, since you were off in your wonderland with Dan Howell.”

 

Phil swallowed, realizing the context of the situation. “Hey-y, so I see you two have met?” Before Adrian could get a word out of his opened mouth, Maureen pulled the trigger.

 

“We have, but not  _ formally. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be coming out sooner than we thought and we've got a nice surprise for you guys! Stick around to find out......


	4. Dynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family drama and group chats, what could go wrong?

Phil stuttered, looking at Adrian, then Maureen, then back again. He opened his mouth to speak, but only faint screeches came through. He took a second to process that his best friend knew a random teenaged girl from _New York_ (of all places), who just so happened to be one of Phil’s biggest admirers. Both Adrian and Maureen exchanged glances with each other, quickly coming up with the best explanation. Surprisingly, Adrian was the first to take the stand, “She’s my sibling’s girlfriend’s cousin’s mother’s daughter-in-law.” Phil relaxed his mind, _she’s just a mutual friend,_ he thought, _of  his sibling-wait_. “Wait-wait, you have a _sibling_? How come you never told me?”

 

Adrian hesitated. “Yes, I have a sibling...” Phil shook his head in awe, “I thought you were an only child! How come I’ve never met them?” Adrian sighed. “We aren’t really on the… best of terms. They’ve hated me since the moment I was out of the womb. All throughout our childhood, they teased me and made fun of me, and loved to do it in front of my friends. They made sure my childhood was miserable.” Adrian sighed, showing hints of sadness, something he didn’t tend to do (especially in front of people), “Don’t know where they went, but it sure ain’t round’ here.”

 

“Huh,” replied Phil, clearly still being shocked by the circumstances of the situation. Adrian excused himself to go to the restroom, and shuffled into his bedroom and shut the door with a loud bang. No other sound came from his room, as well as from Maureen. Phil and Maureen stood in complete silence, until Phil decided to speak. “Well, Maureen, do you wanna get some coffee?” Maureen shrugged, and walked out the door, gesturing for Phil to follow.

 

They walked slowly, Phil humming the tune of his favorite Van Goth song, Maureen looking down at her feet. “You know, Adrian’s sibling isn’t all that bad. They just… didn’t have that nice of a childhood together. His sibling speaks so highly of him, and they really miss him as well. I never knew you were Adrian’s roommate, though!”

 

They reached the coffee shop and walked to the cash register. Maureen spoke up. “I’ll have a Caramel Macchiato, Venti, Skim, Extra Shot, Extra-Hot, Extra-Whip, Sugar-Free, with 2% foam please,” she said as the cashier struggled to keep up. Phil began to speak, but Maureen cut him off. “He’ll have a tall, nonfat latte.” Phil was confused, but eventually shrugged it off and ordered a brownie for both of them. Maureen looked him up and down, “I was doing that for you,” she whispered. Phil held out his credit card to pay, but Maureen twisted his arm to the side and gave the cashier her credit card. The card had a red plating with her card number embossed in gold. The credit card company, which Phil didn’t get a good look at, was inked in a silver color, as it reflected the light from the ceiling into his eyes. The name, however, wasn’t hers. 

 

Phil sat down at a wooden table, and Maureen slipped into the seat opposite him. They sat in silence, the only sound being the horrible music playing from a speaker over their heads. After what seemed like hours of sitting in silence, Maureen’s name was called out, and Maureen ran and grabbed their drinks. She sat down, sliding Phil’s drink in front of him. Maureen let out an anguished cry, making Phil jump. “ARGH! They put 5% foam!” Phil hesitated, as Maureen started yelling at the bartender. “I WANT MY GODDAMN MONEY BACK!” Phil managed to calm her down. 

 

They sipped their drinks, commenting awkwardly on the weather and their local sports teams. Suddenly, Maureen chugged her drink and launched it into a rubbish bin five meters away, and grabbed Phil’s drink out of his hand. She chugged that too and stood up. “I’m bored, Phil, let’s do something.” She pulled out her phone, grabbed Phil’s hand, and ran out the door. “Wait here,” she told Phil, and ran into a supermarket. She came out with a large bag with a square object. 

 

“Come on!” she yelled, grabbing his hand again. They ran for 15 minutes, only stopping once to catch their breath. The wind swept past them, making Maureen’s brunette hair flow in the wind, as she tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. She slowed to a stop suddenly, and turned to Phil. “Here we are!” She gestured to a sign that said “ _ Duck Park _ ”. Phil laughed nervously, but walked into a clearing with Maureen. 

 

They walked until they saw a beautiful pond with crystal-clear water, reflecting the cloudy sky above. As they approached, several ducks swam up to them. Maureen took out her bag and took out the boxes inside. The name ‘ _ Rice Krispies Cereal’  _ was written on the side of the boxes. They sat there for the rest of the day, laughing and feeding the ducks. 

 

\--

_ VAN CHAT _

 

_ Daniel Howell [danisnotonfire] has logged in. (11:12 PM) _

_ Samuel Lombard [samstheman] has logged in. (11:12 PM) _

_ James Peterson [forpetessake] has logged in. (11:12 PM) _

_ Pierce Blume [pierceinbloom] has logged in. (11:13 PM) _

 

danisnotonfire: who’s ready?

 

samstheman: for getting drunk?

 

forpetessake: strip club?

 

pierceinbloom: for all of the above?

 

danisnotonfire: no you idiots

 

danisnotonfire: for our fucking tour

 

danisnotonfire: you know the one that’s coming up in like, a few days

 

forpetessake: oh

 

samstheman: i mean getting drunk is still an option right?

 

danisnotonfire: i would actually slap you if we weren’t in completely different rooms

 

samstheman: fite me

 

pierceinbloom: rawr

 

forpetessake: smh

 

pierceinbloom: y’all just calm down, we have practice tmr 

 

samstheman: wait what

 

pierceinbloom: 10am, meet in meeting room then go to the stage from there

 

forpetessake: okay bossy

 

samstheman: anyone want to get drunk in my room?

 

forpetessake: be there in 5

 

pierceinbloom: same here

 

samstheman: dan?

 

danisnotonfire: hold on guys these emails are a nuisance to deal with brb

 

“Ughhhhh,” says Dan as he opened up his email tab and was automatically greeted with a plethora of emails coming in. Most of them are junk, asking him to do “secret shopping”. Eight of them are from James (forpetessake) telling him pointless puns. When Dan thinks of him, he thinks of a dull knife, representing his non-sharp wit. A couple hundred of his emails are from fangirls, asking to marry him, half of whom show a picture of his name sharpied on their inner arm.  _ That’s gonna be a pain to wash off, _ he thought. Completely dismissing the fact that hundreds of thousands of people were infatuated with him. But they only loved  _ him, _ not Dan.  

 

  
Dan continued deleting his emails, and upon scrolling fell across a semi-familiar name. “Phil Lester”, it read. Dan stopped scrolling down, he had recognized the name from the internet, so he decided to see what an internet celebrity would have to say. _Hello Dan_ , it read. _I don’t really know how to say this, but I think you’re my soulmate._ Dan chuckles. _I know you may be thinking I’m lying, but I’m not. Just look at my arm, I have your name on it._ Dan sighed, considering the consequence of opening the file, but opened the picture anyway, ignoring the ‘possible virus’ notification.

 

The photo, which was slightly pixelated, displayed a pale coloured arm. Written on it with dark black ink, somehow significantly darker and deeper than the other photos he had seen, was his name. Dan laughed, trying to shake off the possibility of it being real, and pressed the trash can button to get rid of it. He went back to the chat.

 

pierceinbloom: dan come back we dont know where we are

 

forpetessake: the children are lost

 

danisnotonfire: dammit guys i was busy

 

danisnotonfire: and where the hell are you?

 

pierceinbloom: in your mum

 

danisnotonfire: are you shitting me i didn’t think you were 9

 

forpetessake: lmao someone’s moody

 

forpetessake: found blood somewhere?

 

pierceinbloom: LMFAOOOOOO XD 

 

samstheman: my room # is 609 guys

 

samstheman: so how the hell are you guys lost

 

forpetessake: uhhh 609 in what building exactly? the sketchy abandoned looking one or the nightclub?

 

samstheman: OH FOR PETES SAKE (mind the pun)

 

danisnotonfire: okay, im giving up on you guys, just use google maps, ill see u guys at practice

 

pierceinbloom: was that some shitty spon?

 

danisnotonfire: you know what

 

_ danisnotonfire has kicked pierceinbloom out of the chat. _

_ danisnotonfire has kicked samstheman out of the chat. _

_ danisnotonfire has kicked forpetessake out of the chat. _

_ danisnotonfire has logged out (11:32 PM) _

 

\-- --

 

Dan sighed as he closed his laptop. His hotel room was eerily quiet, his neighbours asleep and the nightlife, coming from his window, was coming to an end. Dan got up from his bed, brushing some chip crumbs off his lap and walked to the bathroom where he locked the door. He stared at himself in the mirror, eye bags as big as ever, shabby hair and rough skin. He opened the tap and put his head underneath it, wetting his hair. 

 

As he got out from under the tap, he shook his hair sending water beads everywhere. His hair, now soaked, still looked as it did before, just wet. He shut of the tap and starred in the mirror once more. He was wearing a old wrinkled My Chemical Romance tour shirt with stained grey sweatpants. 

 

“Dan!” came a voice from outside followed by loud knocking, “DAN!” The knocking persisted, he groaned in annoyance and let himself out of his bathroom. “Hurry up boi!” the person speaking slurred their words, leading Dan to think they were drunk.

 

“Who is it?” asked Dan leaning his head on his side of the door, he waited for an answer.

 

“It’s mEeEeEeeeEE!” 

 

“Damnit,” said Dan as he unlocked his hotel room door to reveal a drunk Samuel waiting outside on the ground. Sam smiled as the door opened.

 

“Hey buddy!” he said, trying to clutch the wall for support as he stood up. “I can’t find me room! I needs help-” but before he could finish his sentence Sam suddenly dropped to the ground, laughing. As far Dan’s friend reflexes go, he crouched down on the ground, next to his laughing friend.

 

“Drunk as always,” Dan muttered under his breath, aware that his friend may still be sane enough to listen. Sam opened his mouth to speak but just started prattling. Dan sighed as he took his bandmate by the arms and proceeded to drag him onto the sofa in his hotel room.

 

Dan, with all his strength, lifted Sam up on the sofa; legs, then his torso, and finally his arms. Sam’s face was stuck in a smiling position, almost as if he were in wonderland. As Dan began to walk away to his own bed, Sam looked at him.

 

“Goodnight Danny!!” 

 

Dan smiled, and got in his own bed, switching off his bedside lamp. “Goodnight Sam.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter took so long, school has been a nightmare for all of us so yea.
> 
> next chapter will be out in 2 weeks (or less, don't get your hopes up)


	5. Deadly Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Maureen finally go to the concert, what awaits for them there?

_ THE NEXT MORNING _

“Phil, Phil, Phil, Phil-” repeated a voice. Phil woke up to Maureen standing over him in bed. He looked down at himself, he was wearing emoji pajama bottoms and an old top. His head throbbed as he sat up. “What do you want, Maureen?” Maureen screeched, making Phil plug his ears. 

“TODAY’S THE VAN GOTH CONCERT O-M-G”, Maureen yelled. Phil sat up. “Okay, okay, quiet down.” He stood, walking into the kitchen to make himself breakfast, passing Adrian’s room (very noisy for some reason, maybe Cameron was here). He made himself pancakes that weren’t very tasty, since they were burnt. He went on to make himself tea, and poured the piping-hot liquid heaven into a mug. He turned to sit down, and saw Maureen watching him sadly.

“What’s wrong, Maureen? You can have some too.” He held out his mug of tea, accidentally spilling some on the ground. 

Maureen shook her head slowly. “It’s… nothing. I’m just thinking too much,” she said. 

“Thinking about wha-”, Phil started to say, but Maureen had already left the room. 

Phil shrugged it off and sat down, enjoying the crunchiness of his burnt (or as Adrian would argue, ‘caramelized’) pancake. He sipped his tea, burning his tongue, but not seeming to care. He picked up the knife and dug it into the pancake, with Maureen watching him. “Doors open at 7, we should leave here at 5:30.” 

Phil looked up at her, mouth full of pancakes and said “5:30? That’s a bit extreme don’t you think?”

The girl smiled, and headed to the stove to pour herself a cup of tea in one of Adrian’s mugs, it was pitch black with some sort of meme on it that Phil could never understand. She sat next to Phil and drank her steaming cup of tea. “It’s never too early for anything.”

\-- --

_ *BEEP-BEEEEEEP-BEEEEEEEP* _

Phil jumped at the sound of his alarm going off, he grabbed his phone and checked the time,  _ 5:30PM.  _ “PHIL! HURRY UP!” screamed Maureen, waiting by the door. Apparently, she too had an alarm. Phil sighed deeply, got his favourite pair of shoes on a rushed down the stairs heading through the front door. Maureen was leaning on the door, wearing a faux black leather jacket, with fringes all over the sleeves, and a normal pair of ripped black jeans. She started tapping her foot on the hardwood floor impatiently, her block heeled boots causing a loud sound to ripple across the floor. Phil looked down at his outfit, a colourful patterned shirt layered on top of a black longsleeve shirt  with his signature black skinny jeans. He opted to wear contacts but instead wore glasses to decrease his chance of being recognized.

Maureen looked up from her phone, “I called a taxi, it’s already downstairs ya snail.” She placed her phone in a small pocket hidden in the inside of the jacket. She unlocked the door as Phil reached her and they both walked out together. Phil locked the door as Maureen was already down one flight of stairs.

“Wait up!” said Phil as he struggled with getting the keys out of the lock. He pulled once again with so much force he almost bumped into his teenage neighbour, who was also coming out of the door. He apologized as he rushed the down stairs, you’d think he was flying by how fast he went. Eventually he caught up with Maureen and the both of them went outside to the cold London evening. 

Phil took sight of the only black taxi waiting on the street and decided that it must’ve been the one Maureen called. He walked up to it and saw through the window Maureen already making small talk with the drive; the both of them were smiling. Maureen caught eye of Phil outside and gestured for him to come in. He smiled, and opened the door to the back seats and sat down. The driver smiled.

“Off to the Van Goth concert I presume?” he said, surveying both of their outfits.

“Yeah, we are,” replied Maureen, as if she had memorized a script a few hours beforehand. 

“Seems a bit too early for yer youngings to be leaving,” said the driver as he started to press on the gas pedal. 

“We want to be extra early, and maybe get some backstage tickets,” replied Maureen, jumping in her seat. Phil slid into the seat beside her as Maureen giggled and nudged him.  

Phil looked at her uncomfortably, and looked away. “Make it quick, please,” he said to the driver. The driver nodded his head as a way for acknowledging Phil’s discomfort being in a small space with one of his biggest fans. Phil’s eyes began to flutter, before they couldn’t hold up any longer and closed shut.

\---

Phil woke up to the sound of screaming fans just outside the taxi window. He checked the time on his phone, 6:49 PM. Maureen was right, good thing they went early. Maureen had already paid the taxi driver and had her door on the handle of the car but before the went out she looked back at Phil, looking as sleepy as ever. 

“Come on,” she said, opening up her door and walking out; Phil did the same. As Phil walked out, a cool breeze of air hit him but didn’t feel like a thing amongst the crowd of bodies he was in. The arena looked the same as the time he came here to buy tickets, but this time the crowd was outside, waiting for the doors to open. Phil used his height to an advantage and started searching the sea of fans for Maureen, who he had lost as he got out of the taxi.

“Maureen!” he shouted, getting some unwanted looks from some fans and parents around him. No response. Phil took a deep breath and reached for his phone in his pocket, but as he tried to hold it up to his ear, his arm was being squished by the two people in front of him, making it so that he couldn’t move any of his limbs. 

Phil swam through the crowd to reach the front door, thinking that Maureen would meet up with him eventually. He checked the time, 6:52 PM. Only eight more minutes until the doors would open and he would buy a backstage ticket, meet Dan, and everything would be perfect. He smiled to himself.  

After waiting for a few minutes, a man came up to the door from the inside a fiddle with the lock as impatient fans jumped up and down in excitement. Finally, as if in slow motion, both doors swung open and the sea of fans flowed in. Phil was one of those first fans to enter and was greeted by the plethora of Van Goth merchandise hanging everywhere. Before inspecting the rest of the arena, Phil shuffled his way over to one of the less crowded merch booths; he thought he should get a shirt before people start fighting over them. He bought the cheapest shirt, a plain black one with the band’s distressed logo printed on.

He turned to leave before realizing Maureen might also want a shirt. He pulled out the wad of cash in his pocket, barely 40 pounds, and used it all to buy the nicest shirt he could afford. A lovely white and gray shirt with a holographic design and the band’s logo. He put the shirt in a bag and walked away from the booth.  _ She’s got to pay me back for this one _ , he thought. As if by faith, he saw Maureen, about twenty meters away, on her tiptoes scouring the crowds, trying to find Phil.

Phil called her name, and when Maureen finally saw him, she waved and pushed her way to him through the crowd, angering some people. She found Phil and showed him her ticket. “I’m in row 17, right next to you.” She looked around. “Do you have any idea where that is?” Phil shook his head and walked over to the usher, who pointed down to a row near the stage. Phil’s face brightened at the thought of being near Dan, and maybe even shouting loud enough for Dan to recognize his name.

They promptly sat down in their seats. The lights dimmed, and the band ran onto the stage, screaming along with their fans. As everyone calmed down, the spotlights focused on Dan. They introduced themselves, and talked for a little while, before singing some songs. Phil repeatedly tried to yell out to Dan in hopes he would hear him, but failed to do so. 

Around 11 PM, the concert ended. Phil was sad to have it stop, since he was enjoying it so much, but realized that this was his chance. He pulled Maureen to the side and told her his plan. “Okay, so you have to distract that security guard over there”, Phil pointed to a scary-looking man standing beside a door labeled ‘ _ BACKSTAGE _ ’, “While I sneak in through the door.” 

Maureen hesitatingly nodded. She began to walk to the security guard, while Phil took a deep breath. As Maureen walked over to the guard, flirting with him, Phil sneaked over to the door, and slipped in. He quickly ran through a hallway, hearing yelling behind him, from both Maureen and the security guard.

He made a mad dash for a door labeled ‘ _ DANIEL HOWELL _ ’, from where he heard voices, the most prominent being Dan’s. He had almost reached the door when someone stepped in front of him and cut him off. “What the  _ hell _ are you doing back here? SECURITY!” Phil immediately recognized him as Samuel Lombard, one of the band members. Phil heard running behind him, and turned, expecting a security guard, but seeing Maureen, gun in hand.  

Phil turned back toward Samuel, confused. He opened his mouth. “Wha-” He felt a dull pain in the back of his head, and before everything went dark, he saw Samuel, smiling above him, and Maureen, eyes filling with tears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter took so long to write! we just had thankgiving break and we're finally back to school today ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ


	6. Enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All your questions, answered...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Hey guys! This might be the last chapter we’re posting for the year (NOTE: MIGHT, since it’s an EXTREMELY long one!), so make sure not to spend too much time online and go hang out with your fam this holiday season!) 
> 
> As an (early) Christmas gift for you guys (even though one of us doesn’t celebrate Christmas - *looks at the Bruh* I SAID DON’T FRIGGIN LOOK AT ME), we have written a special Christmas one-shot! Also, don’t forget to stick around for the original idea for the chapter, written by The one and only Yam (implicit_despair), at the end!
> 
> If you have any questions about the chapter (which we know is pretty confusing to take in so much information at once) feel free to IM/comment-we’ll be sure to answer.
> 
> Happy Holidays!
> 
> TheBruhTheGenieAndTheYam

Phil woke up with a terrible headache. He blinked, trying to erase the black splotches from his view. Once he came to, he saw Maureen across the room, sitting on a small table, examining a pistol. 

 

“Maureen! Help me!” Phil struggled with the thick rope that bound him to the old chair he was sitting on. Maureen hesitated, then slowly shook her head. By her feet, he saw a briefcase filled with money. Phil shook his head, confused. He looked into the face of a person with Maureen’s facial features, but with foreign, blonde, curly hair strands sticking out around her face. 

 

“Phil,” she began. “I- I’m so-” hearing footsteps, Maureen stopped, and put on a hard, mean expression, which Phil knew was just a mask for her real feelings. Phil started to speak, but decided against it. He took in his surroundings. It was dark, probably night, and they seemed to be in some kind of a warehouse. While he continued looking around, the noticed somebody coming out of the shadows. Samuel Lombard. 

 

“Shoot him.” He said, walking closer to Maureen. Phil began to panic. He pulled on the rope tying him to his chair with no avail. Maureen shook her head.

 

“We owe him an explanation.” Maureen put down her gun and stood up. She took small steps towards Phil, stopping in front of him, twirling her brown hair. 

 

“Oh Phil, you’re just the same as in your videos. Innocent, sweet,” she paused, “but oh so gullible.” Maureen walked around the chair, putting her hands on Phil’s shoulders. “Let’s start off the truth bombs shall we? Number one, my real name isn’t Maureen. It’s Olivia.” 

 

Phil stared, confused.  _ She really did deceive me, didn’t she? _ He thought. “Number two,” she paused again, probably for dramatic effect, and pulled off the hair Phil once thought to be her natural hair color, to reveal a mane of bright blonde curls. 

 

“Number three, Samuel hired me to,” she looked at Samuel, who had a scowl on his face and spun a small knife between his fingers,“kill you.”

 

Phil struggled a bit in his chair, the rope burning his hand where the skin was exposed. “Kill me?”

 

Maureen laughed, ruffling Phil’s hair, causing him to flinch. “Oh Phil-”

 

“Don’t ‘Oh Phil’ me!” Phil shouted, bringing out an anger he had not brought out before, startling both Sam and Maureen. “Why-why the,” he hesitated to come up with the right words for the situation. “Why the  _ fuck _ would you kill me? I-I thought, you were a fan.” Phil looked at Maureen’s face, a blank expression covered it with no visible sign of emotion or mercy. Especially not for Phil at the moment.

 

Sam laughed loudly in the corner of the room, both Phil and Maureen turning their attention to him. “You’re more idiotic than I thought you were, aren’t you Philip?” said Sam with a malevolent tone. He walked up towards him and forcefully pulled Phil’s left arm out of the rope. Phil was still wearing the same long sleeve top underneath a colourful top from the concert. Sam slowly rolled up Phil’s sleeve, exposing the name on his arm. Sam grinned and let go of Phil’s arm.

 

“The reason, Phillip, I want to kill you, is that.” He pointed to Phil’s arm with the words  _ Daniel Howell _ . “Get ready, because we’re going to have a ‘story time’ as you youtubers like to call it.” Sam began to slowly pace back and forth in front of Phil. “Daniel and I have been friends since High School. We went to college together, where we created our band ‘Van Goth’. 

 

“I want to kill you because-” Samuel stopped and turned towards Phil. “Daniel Howell is  _ mine, _ ” he said, with a scary smile on his face. “You see, I’ve been worried for  _ ages _ that someone would turn up bearing Dan’s name. I’m just happy that my little- let’s call him my  _ espionage _ \- was able to tell me about you. It was simple. Capture you, kill you, get rid of the body, and have a ‘Happily Ever After’ with Dan.”

 

Samuel looked away, suddenly distracted by movement in his peripheral vision. He smirked, and looked back at Maureen. 

 

“What did I tell you Olivia, he would never lie.” Maureen blinked and followed Sam back to his corner.

 

“I never said he did-” she was interrupted by the door swinging loudly, and a familiar figure drenched in blood came walking in, bloody kitchen knife in hand. Maureen crossed her arms and stood straight facing the person, “Speak of the devil.”

 

“I did it, bubba.” 

 

Phil stared at the bloody figure in shock.  _ No-that couldn’t be. _

 

“Good job, baby brother,” said Sam, taking the knife from the person’s hands and setting it down on a nearby table. He turned back towards the person. “Now, I have another task for you.” The person looked visibly shaken and scared, but nodded. Sam pointed towards Phil. “Hurt him. Kill him if you’d like.” Sam picked up the knife and shoved it into the person's hands. 

 

The person walked out of the shadows towards Phil, which confirmed his worst nightmare.  _ Adrian _ . “No-Adrian?” There he was, a blood soaked Adrian, the person he once knew to be his roommate. But at that moment it’s like he didn’t know him at all. Then he realised, he didn’t know  _ anyone _ at all. Everyone had deceived him, had  _ used _ him. Now, there was only one thing worth fighting for. One person worth staying alive for.

 

The door swung open again. Phil tensed up, expecting it to be one of their supposed ‘cult’ members, but instead, it was- 

 

“James!” shouted Sam, who was still holding the small knife from before, standing next to a bloody Adrian.

 

Phil automatically recognized him as James Peterson, a fellow band member. Even if he could, he didn’t think he would fanboy over him in this situation. Too bad James had bad timing.

 

“Woah,” he said shocked, looking around the room before finally settling his eyes on Phil. Phil could feel James’s eyes widen on him, almost to the point where they could’ve exploded. “Samuel?” He turned to face he bandmate again but was greeted with the end of the gun point right at him. On the other end, was Sam. James held his hands up as if he were the police.

 

“Oh for pete’s sake, Sam. Put down the fucking gun-”

 

_ *BANG* _

 

One shot, straight through his body. James touched the wound in his stomach, looked at the blood, then back at Sam before finally collapsing to the ground with a light thud. Phil couldn’t believe what he just witnessed. He just  _ killed _ a fellow bandmate. An idol, a friend, a savior for some. He was alive a few seconds ago, and just with a simple trigger he fell, almost heroically, in slow-motion. Sam scoffed, “Of course that bastard had to make a pun out of his own name before dying.”

Phil hung his head, holding back his tears, but saw Adrian go back towards Samuel in the corner of his eye. “Bubba, I’m so sorry.” Before Sam could react, Adrian lifted his gun and brought it down on Sam’s head, making him crumple to the ground. Maureen quickly rushed to Phil, taking out a small pocket knife she had been hiding in her boots and using it to cut the rope. Surprisingly, it cut the rope in one quick slash despite its size. 

 

Phil felt the rope loosen around him and looked up; the rope had completely fallen to the floor. Maureen grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him out of the chair. He felt as though she was implying that he needed to run, so he did. He followed both Adrian and Maureen out of the dark room, which led to an empty alleyway which Phil recognized was near the stadium of the concert. Phil stopped to look up at the night sky. It was pitch black with no stars in sight. Maureen tugged on his sleeve and they began to run again. 

 

He didn’t know how long they ran, or if they even continued running, because the last thing Phil remembered was Maureen shouting, Adrian holding the door, and then staring at the concrete floor before everything went black.

 

\--

 

Phil woke up, lying on the wooden table in his flat, with an excruciating pain in his legs. He sat up slowly, gripping onto the edges of the table for support. The table wasn’t long enough the support his whole body, so his feet were dangling off the edge. Multiple medical supplies lay on top of the surrounding surfaces. Phil tried to move, but his attempts were in vain. 

 

Phil picked up a scalpel, wanting nothing more than to trace lines across his arms and to watch the blood ooze out, but decided not to, and threw his scalpel across the room in frustration, narrowly missing Maureen, who walked into the room. He looked up at her, “Great, it’s you again.”

 

“Phil-”

 

Phil rested his head back on the cold tabletop, pretending to ignore her as she prepared his pain killer and a glass of water. She kindly brought it over in a silver tray, stopping to his left side. “Phil, you have to take these. They’ll make you feel better.” Phil turned his head away. “Phil, don’t be like that. I only wanted to save you.” Phil didn’t turn toward her, but shifted his eyes in her direction.

 

“We told Samuel that if he comes after you again, we’d expose him to the world, and Dan. Don’t worry, Sam won’t be bothering you again.” Phil made an effort to face Maureen. He held out his hands for the pills, which she placed gently in his hands. He stared at her for a bit as she walked towards the other table, organizing all the medical stuff that had just been randomly placed all over. Phil then popped the pills in his mouth, ignoring the glass of water that had been given to him and swallowed them dry.

 

He felt the pills slowly travel down his throat and then finally settling in his stomach. Everywhere hurt. It wasn’t a burn, a scratch, or a ache. It was betrayal. Could he ever trust his friends again? Could he trust his instincts? What could he trust?  _ Who _ could he trust? That’s what hurt the most. More than a stab to the heart. If he died, the pain would go away, but he didn’t, so the pain still stays, like an inscription. Like the inscription on his arm. All because of the inscription on his arm-this happened.

 

_ Dandandandandandandandandandandandandandan. _

 

_ Daniel Howell. _

 

_ All because of him. This happened.  _

 

_ Whywhywhwywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy. _

 

_ Everything’s closing in. Maureen, Adrian, Cameron, Sam,- _

 

_ Dan- _

 

_ It’s darkdarkdarkdarkdarkdarkdarkdarkdarkdarkdarkdarkdarkdarkdark. _

 

_ He’s here. _

 

_ No. _

 

_ He’s there. _

 

_ Wait. _

 

_ Coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold. _

 

_ WATER. _

 

“Blah!” screamed Phil as Maureen was at the sink filling up another jug of cold water. He felt his hair and clothes, they was soaked. Phil sighed and shook the water off his head like a dog as Maureen finished filling the jug. Phil shielded his face with his hand, assuming there was another wave of cold water coming. And there was. Maureen quickly dumped the whole jug on Phil; his hand did not help.

 

“Maureen!”

 

“WHAT?” she screamed back. “You were slipping in and out of consciousness. I did the only thing I do best.”

 

“Give me a heart attack?” Phil retorted.

 

Maureen put the jug aside and placed the back of her palm on Phil’s forehead. Still warm despite the cold splashes of water. “You’re building up a fever.” she said, ignoring his retort.

 

“How? I only-you know-got knocked out, saw multiple weapons, INCLUDING GUNS, most of them pointed at me. Saw that my idol, and best friend probably wanted to kill me and maybe still do. On that note, where is he?”

 

Almost as if he had been eavesdropping, Adrian walked into the kitchen holding an empty cup of coffee. He yawned, practically asking for a refill. Maureen faced him with arms crossed. He finally noticed her body language and took a hint.

“What?” he asked, filling his mug again with the now lukewarm coffee. He filled it to the rim and drank it black. Maureen took a deep breath in annoyance.

 

“I think you owe someone an explanation.”

 

At first, Adrian gave her a confused looked, but after he glanced down beside her to where Phil lay he laughed. “Oh hey buddy-”

 

“No.”

 

Adrian shrugged, and continued drinking his coffee. “I tried-”

 

“That was so fucking pathetic,” interrupted Maureen.

 

“Yeah well,” Adrian paused, trying to come up with a quick burn, “Your mum’s pathetic.”

 

Maureen squinted at him, “You don’t know my mum.”

 

“I know,” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

 

Phil watched them talk, moving his head from each person to the other like in a tennis game. But soon it became-

 

_ Blurry. _

 

_ Flutter. _

 

_ Dark. _

 

_ Nothing. _

 

_ It’s just nothing don’t worry. _

 

_ worryworryworryworryworryworryworry _

 

_ worry is worthless. _

 

_ Is he? _

 

_. _

 

_.. _

 

_ … _

 

_ it’s dark again _

 

_. _

 

_.. _

 

_ … _

 

_ whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhwyhwywhywhywhywhywh- _

\-- --

_ VAN CHAT _

 

_ Daniel Howell [danisnotonfire] has logged in. (12:14 PM) _

_ Samuel Lombard [samstheman] has logged in. (12:14 PM) _

_ Pierce Blume [pierceinbloom] has logged in. (12:17 PM) _

 

danisnotonfire: fuckin amazing first show guys!

 

samstheman: aye aye cap

 

pierceinbloom: damn right

 

pierceinbloom: did you see that sign during the concert?

 

danisnotonfire: which sign it’s a stadium there’s at least 200 signs

 

pierceinbloom: there was a pregnant lady holding one

 

pierceinbloom: the one that said ‘pierce is my baby daddy’

 

pierceinbloom: it’s so sweet

 

pierceinbloom: they think of me as a fatherly figure to their unborn baby

 

samstheman: … 

 

danisnotonfire: hOLy SHiT PIERCE 

 

pierceinbloom: there was also one that said ‘pierce me pierce ;)’

 

pierceinbloom: they think im a professional body piercer

 

pierceinbloom: can’t believe that they think that im so talented!

 

samstheman: which part of them do they want you to pierce?

 

danisnotonfire: i dont wanna know

 

samstheman: fien then

 

samstheman: be like that

 

pierceinbloom: anyways, where’s james?

 

danisnotonfire: i haven’t seen him since the afterparty last night

 

samstheman: probably still hungover from yesterday

 

danisnotonfire: most likely but we should get him before the concert tonight

 

pierceinbloom: should i call out a security team?

 

samstheman: nah he’s fine

 

danisnotonfire: you sure?

 

samstheman: I’m very sure.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our ch 6. original idea: 
> 
> Maureen: imma shoot you
> 
> Phil: o no
> 
> *pew pew pew*
> 
> Phil: shit im ded *falls to ground*
> 
> Sam: haha unless dan like to fuck corpses there’s no way you’re getting laid
> 
> Dan: lmao *makes out with sam*
> 
> Maureen: fuck y’all *walks out* 
> 
> Adrian: i like corpses...
> 
> \--
> 
> CHRISTMAS ONE-SHOT: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12986445


	7. PTSD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the scarring events of the concert, Adrian needs a way to cope with himself. What better way to do that than to go to the therapist?

Adrian wiped his sweaty hands on his dark blue wool jacket. Today was the day Adrian was going to fix it all. This was the day Adrian was going to the therailuthtatpist. Phil had dragged him to come with, although at first he resented, he saw that this was his chance to make it up to Phil. He obliged, now finding himself on the train. It hadn’t been a particularly crowded day, but he still found himself standing in a confined spot in front of Phil, who was sitting down and playing some game on his phone. Adrian checked the time, 10:43 AM.

“Ughh,” Adrian said, trying to subtly hint at Phil that he still didn’t want to go. He remembered how their conversation went this morning:

_ “You’re going.” _

_ “I’m gay.” _

_ “That has nothing to do with this.” _

Phil looked up from phone, bothered that Adrian had interrupted his Instagram viewing, and saw that Adrian was staring straight down at him. This was the only time his 5’8 body could feel tall compared to Phil’s 6’2. “Adrian, not now. We’re almost there,” he replied, as people started to stare awkwardly at them. Adrian sighed and scratched the back of his head. 

“Therapists never help,” he said, while tapping his fingers on his thigh impatiently. 

“That’s because you’ve never been to one,” Phil looked back down at his phone. Adrian could tell he was still slightly salty about the incident.

Adrian tapped his foot in annoyance and looked at Phil, exasperated. “Well, you’re the one who was betrayed by two of your best friends, kidnapped, tied to a chair, and almost  _ murdered?  _ Why aren’t you going to a therapist? Hm, I wonder.” The sarcasm in his voice almost spread to him like a disease.  

Adrian threw his arms up in frustration. “WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?”

Phil peeked at Adrian from behind his phone. “Shut. Up.” Phil looked back down and resumed scrolling through his Instagram feed, double tapping on a select few.

Adrian groaned, “Why am I even going again?” He felt a vibration in his pocket. At first he thought,  _ shit did I accidentally pack my vibrator? _ He then took out the vibrating object he soon realized to be his phone. On the screen, were multiple messages from Phil.

_ Phil: *stabbing sound effects*  _

_ Phil: that’s why _

_ Adrian: why are you texting me instead of speaking? _

_ Phil: behind you _

Adrian looked behind him and saw two teenage girls, both wearing Van Goth shirts. He turned back to his phone.

_ Adrian: so what? let them know that one of their idols are possibly dead, and that another one possibly killed him _

_ Phil: look, if we break our part of the deal _

_ Phil: who knows what he’s going to do? _

_ Adrian: o ya _

_ Adrian: fuck _

_ Phil: you’re welcome _

_ Adrian: fuck. shit. cuss words r fun. also my duck is big _

_ Adrian: goddamn autocorrect _

Phil looked up from his phone and stood up. Adrian looked at him, confused, till he nodded towards the open train doors. It was their station. They both walked out, Adrian having to jump out of the narrowing opening as the door closed on him. Phil held up his phone which displayed some directions. He looked at the ETA and realized they were going to be late.

\-- --

Luckily, they had made it to the waiting room just in time. Adrian checked in, and both him and Phil took a seat in front of the television, which was on a news channel. The reporter had a grim look on his face. “After the Van Goth concert, a few attendees reported gunshots that have yet to be investigated,” said the reporter. Adrian rolled his eyes and fished his phone out of his pocket. 

“Adrian Lombard?” said one of the desk clerks, Adrian looked up from his phone and raised his hand. “Perfect, follow me”, she said, tapping her clipboard with a pen and turning around in one graceful motion. 

She led Adrian through a wide hallway. At the very end was a dark oak door, different from the other doors, which were made out of lighter wood. The desk clerk opened the door for him and let him inside, she closed the door once he was in. The room was quite large for a doctor’s office, a large leather sofa sat on one side of the room. The therapist was writing in a notebook so Adrian awkwardly took a seat on the sofa.

His table was noticeably dirty, seeing as it was glass for the most part. It wasn’t unorganized, but the scratch marks and dirt were visible to the naked eye, which made Adrian shiver. As he looked closer, he could see many different brown rings, which at first he thought were a design, but soon realized they were coffee stains.  _ What a first impression, _ he thought. 

The man looked up from his notebook and almost looked surprised to see Adrian there, although he booked this appointment a few days prior (which was a big step for him). The therapist smiled, it seemed genuine enough for Adrian to smile back.

Adrian looked down in embarrassment. He hoped the therapist wouldn’t judge his mistakes (or put him in jail).  Silence cut through the room. Adrian thought of some ice breakers, but then realized how unprofessional it would be. The therapist was the first to speak.

“Dr. Leo Gording,” he held out his hand, “nice to meet you. Adrian isn’t it?” Adrian nodded shook his hand swiftly, _ a firm grip _ , he noted. As soon as the handshake broke away, Adrian started to feel a somewhat tingling sensation on his arm. Despite not believing it, he knew what it was right away.

_ Ah, fuck.  _

_ \-- _

Dan was packing his clothes. He needed a break from this tour. A long break. Which, in his book, meant a week, thanks to the tour being postponed so officials could investigate the gunshots. Dan wasn’t going to lie, he was terrified. He hadn’t seen James since the concert where the gunshots were heard. Dan was afraid that James was hurt, but he had to stay positive and hope for the best, that James was safe. Yet somewhere, deep down, he knew that something must’ve happened to him, and based on his feelings, it was something unpleasant. 

Dan heard footsteps in the hallway and a knocking on his door. He looked through the peephole, wary of whoever was there. It was Sam. Finally, somebody he could trust. With his life.

He unlatched the lock and opened the door halfway. He looked Sam up and down, almost examining him to make sure he was real. “What’s up, Dan? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Dan took a step back and invited Sam in. He began to explain: “I-I’m going to be taking a little... break.” Sam looked confused and furrowed his brows. “I’m just, worried about James, and myself. I’m going to stay somewhere else incognito.” Sam nodded. “You should do the same as well. The shooter could still be on the loose.” Dan rubbed his head and paced back and forth. “I hope they find out what happened, and soon.”

Dan sat down on his couch, and Sam sat down beside him, ignoring the fact that they were close - too close. Sam snuggles up to him a little, but not enough for Dan to notice or to make him uncomfortable. Then bit by bit, Sam gets closer, and closer, and even closer till there’s barely any air spacing them apart.

“Sam,” the only word Dan was able to get out of his mouth before his bandmate cupped a hand around his mouth and smiled.

Dan looked away, pretending to be distracted by a bird on a tree. “Dan, Dan look at me. Dan!” Sam leaned in, wanting to kiss Dan on his cheek. “Dan…”, Sam moaned softly. Dan turned at the worst moment.

“What do you wan-”, he was cut off by a kiss on his lips, a kiss meant for his cheek.

Dan tried to pull away, but Sam held him close and wouldn’t let him go, and forcefully kissed him. Dan had only kissed a few people in his life, and he always ended up feeling warm and cozy inside. He didn’t feel warm or nice, but instead it almost felt as if Dan was kissing ice cubes with thorns.

It was Sam, his bandmate, his childhood best friend, his go-to-for-advice, his everything he’s ever known. And now his first kiss.

Despite Dan’s self-proclaimed ‘good looks’, he really hadn’t had the courage to back it up. Sure, there were the parties, and the ‘spin the bottle’. But Dan always had shied away from the game, complaining that  he had one too many drinks, or that his parents were going to ‘fuck him up’ if he stayed any longer. Even if there was no alcohol at the party, he’d say that the fruit punch is spiked. Sam wasn’t brave enough to try it afterwards anyway.

Within realizing that, Dan used all his pent up anger to hastily push Sam away and stand up. He stomped all his way out of his hotel room, making sure his feelings were very much heard. Sam sat on the couch.

“You know this is your room, right?” he shouted as the door slammed shut. Even though the couch and the door were a good 10 feet apart, it almost felt as if he was standing right in front of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys!
> 
> We now have social media. 
> 
> Twitter - @bruhgenieyam  
> Instagram - @bruhgenieyam  
> Snapchat - BruhGenieYam  
> Tumblr - BruhGenieYam  
> Email - bruhgenieyam@gmail.com (only for fanmail, questions and prompts please!)
> 
> Be sure to check us out on there!


	8. The Long Way Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH NO! What happened to Adrian? Is he okay? Go see him and Dan in this chapter! (sorry for the bad chapter summary xD)

Adrian was sitting on a worn, leather couch, across from the light brown, comfortable sofa chair Dr. Gording was sitting in. They were a good, awkward three feet apart. 

Adrian positioned himself so that Dr. Leo Gording, his therapist, couldn’t see his arm. Adrian was afraid of what Dr. Gording might think. Would he freak out? Would he get angry? More importantly, Adrian was afraid of what would happen to him. He had never believed in soulmates, but, one random day, he finds his. 

He discreetly looked at his arm and held his breath. His arm bore the name of a stranger, carved into it in perfect lettering. 

Dr. Gording cleared his throat, grabbing Adrian’s attention, who looked up immediately, like he had done something wrong. “So, Adrian, tell me a little about yourself.” Adrian awkwardly looked down at the floor, afraid to talk, or even open his mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Dr. Gording, leaning in a few inches, intrigued by Adrian’s silence. “Would you like to write instead of talk?” Dr. Gording fumbled around him, as if looking for something. He reached to his side and revealed a notebook. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen.

“Here,” Dr. Gording gave him the supplies. Adrian took them hesitatingly, and laid them down on his lap. “Okay,” said Dr. Gording, adjusting his position, “let’s try again. Tell me about yourself, Adrian.” Adrian scribbled on his paper. After what seemed like hours of him writing, he handed the paper to Dr. Gording and looked away. 

I… I’ve done some bad stuff. Stuff that I regret. And I want to leave it in the past, but it’s haunting me. It’s like a heavy weight on my shoulders that I can’t get rid of and I need help. 

Dr. Gording let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Well, Adrian, that’s why you’re here. Now, what brings you here?” Dr. Gording handed the notebook back to Adrian, which he gingerly took from him. He scribbled onto the notebook. 

Adrian handed the notebook back to Dr. Gording, who sighed, annoyed at what Adrian had wrote. The tube. 

Dr. Gording rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Adrian,” he said, clearly disappointed, “Could you please be more s erious about this? I’m here to help you, not to joke around.” He passed the notebook back to Adrian, who didn’t take it. They were stuck in Limbo, staring intently at each other, wondering who would move first only for Dr. Gording’s phone to go off in an explosion of alarms. He shook his head and turned them off. “Our time’s up, see you next time.”

Adrian stood up, grateful that the time had passed quickly. Dr. Gording stood up after him and held out his hand, waiting for a handshake. Adrian stopped in his tracks, if he went in for a handshake, he would see the name. To solve this, Adrian quickly shot finger guns at him and dashed out the room in attempts to not see his reaction. 

As Adrian dashed out the room and into the waiting area, he saw Phil still playing on his phone, not realizing how bad it had went. Phil looked up as Adrian approached. “How’d it go?” Phil asked, sounding more northern than usual. Adrian shrugged. 

“That session was longer than my dick, and that’s pretty long,” he joked loudly, while the door to Dr. Gording’s room was still wide open. 

\-- --

Dan paced around his room, thinking about what had happened just an hour ago. It all happened in an instant, the moment was blurry yet the kiss was as clear as day. The getting closer, the smirking, the face to face eye contact, he was stupid not to see it coming. 

He should’ve known, should’ve seen the signs, but he was just left in the dark like always. He needed some fresh air, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, as if his lungs would collapse on him in any moment, beyond any chance of repair.

Dan grabbed his jacket off the chair, and rushed out his room, closing the door behind. He decided to go out to clear his mind, to give himself time to process what happened. 

After a few minutes, Dan found himself in front of a small bar. With flashing lights saying “OPEN” that almost blinded him, Dan, against his better judgement decided to go inside. He opened the door, and a group of drunks almost stumbled into him, but he managed to avoid them. 

Inside, there weren’t that many patrons, and it was almost silent. He took a sit by the bar and called the bartender over. “I’ll take the strongest drink you have.” He slammed his head against the counter.

The bartender looked at Dan curiously and said in an accent Dan couldn’t quite place, “You sure you can handle it?” Dan’s head rose, “I don’t care. Just give it to me.” The bartender nodded and left to make his drink, leaving Dan alone to his thoughts.  
The next thing he knew, a drink was slammed onto the counter in front of him. The liquid was amber-colored and swirled in the glass, hypnotizing Dan and, for the first time since Sam kissed him, he didn’t think about the kiss, just the drink in front of him. 

The bartender stopped in front of him, “Rough day?” The voice drew Dan out of his thoughts. “More like the worst day of my life.” “Looks like you need some more liquor in you. Don’t worry it’s on the house.” The bartender left, obviously searching for something.

Dan grabbed the small glass and held it up, pondering whether he should drink or not. Whether he should condemn himself to a morning of migraines or to leave now, and save himself from the agony. 

Without hesitating, he brought the clear glass to his mouth and swallowed the entirety of the sweet, sour liquid. He slammed the glass down on the table, squinting. Damn…” he muttered, struggling to breathe. 

“Strong?” said the bartender, walking back over towards him. “It’s supposed to be.” The bartender poured some ‘mystery liquid’ into a small shot glass and slammed it in front of Dan. “Drink up.”

“Th-thanks…” Dan looked at his face, then down at his nametag. “...Jeffrey.” Jeffrey nodded and turned his attention to another customer. He absent-mindedly swirled his drink and drank it. 

Before he knew it, he had drank too many to count. He started to notice pointing fingers from the crowd, pointing at... who knows what. He raised his hand to call the bartender, who brought over another glass. He gulped it down and put it down with the rest of the shot glasses. 

“Dan… you need to stop,” said somebody behind him. He turned groggily, and saw Samuel. “Fuck off, Samannn...nntha. HAhaHA. MoOOoOoO. I sounnndd like a cOooW.” 

Samuel rolled his eyes and tried to drag Dan out of his seat. Dan raised his hand and struck Samuel in his head. Samuel stepped back and shook his head, confused. Dan turned around and swallowed the rest of his drink. He turned around and…

Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So sorry for the long wait… You’d think we’d have more time to write during our time off from life. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, adios!  
> Twitter - @bruhgenieyam  
> Instagram - @bruhgenieyam  
> Email - bruhgenieyam@gmail.com  
> Snapchat - BruhGenieYam  
> Tumblr - @bruhgenieyam  
> As always, be sure to check us out on here!


	9. Spotlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Sorry for the (very) late post! (Whose fault is that? *stares at the Bruh*) EXCUSE YOU IT’S THE GENIE’S FAULT… *ahem* We’ve been quite busy at school like we always are, and are struggling to find time to write. Hopefully the next chapter will come out faster than this one, no promises though. 
> 
> Quick question, would you guys rather have the chapters be shorter (1k to 1.3k words) but quicker updates, or longer chapters (1.5k+ words) but longer updates? Just so we know^^
> 
> The Bruh, The Genie and The Yam >:)

Phil nudged Adrian with his elbow, trying to cheer him up. “Hey, it couldn’t have been that long.” Adrian rolled his eyes and focused on walking through the lobby of the psychiatrist office. All he wanted to do was go home and binge watch Netflix, not having to care about the name on his arm that haunted him. 

Adrian sped up his walking pace, and Phil struggled to keep up with him. “Come on, man. Don’t be like that.” Phil grabbed Adrian’s shoulder, trying to get him to slow down, but Adrian simply, but aggressively, nudged his hand off. 

“Hurry up, Phil,” Adrian mumbled, continuing his walk through the lobby. Phil irritatingly followed him, speed-walking to keep up. Adrian, who was a good 10 feet in front of Phil, rushed out the automatic door, almost hitting an elderly couple. They continued on in silence all the way home.

\-- --

Dan woke up with a throbbing feeling in his head, as if bowling balls were bouncing off the inside of his skull. He examined his surroundings with his blurry eyes, but all his eyes did was flutter. Humming to himself, he let the fluffy pillow underneath encapsulate his head, as he headed into a deep sleep only to be woken up by a stream of water rushing down towards his face. 

“Hello?” said Dan as he slowly rose up from the pillow. He leaned back onto the headboard, patting his face dry with the duvet. He slowly rose from his bed, blinking to adjust his eyes to the bright drafts of sunlight. He annoyingly felt the wetness of his t-shirt, before realizing it was the same shirt he had been wearing the previous day. 

He looked up at the person who had splashed water on his face. “Hahaha! What the fuck Sam?” he said, with a friendly smile on his face, before realizing he was supposed to be angry at him. His expression immediately turned black, and he turned the other way, climbing off his bed, ignoring his horrible headache.

“Dan. Listen. Dan!” shouted Sam as Dan turned around, exasperated. “What the hell do you want?” Sam looked at him sadly, wishing Dan would understand how much he loved him. Sam looked down, ready to give a heartfelt speech about his everlasting love, but stopped himself, remembering what he really wanted to say. 

“Daniel… you-” he was cut off by an out-of-breath Pierce running into the room. “YOU’RE ON THE NEWS! WHAT THE HELL?” Pierce, his fellow band member, held up his old phone to Dan’s face, who took it. Dan finally felt his headache after his burst of anger. He rubbed his head while squinting at the phone. ‘LEAD SINGER OF VAN GOTH SEEN DRINKING THE NIGHT AWAY! IS HIS CAREER ENDING SO SOON??’

Dan looked at them and laughed. “It can’t be that serious, right?” Pierce scoffed and turned around. Sam stood there, looking sadly at the ground. Dan tried to get Sam to look at him, but Sam stubbornly stood his ground.

“Daniel,” he said, breaking down his name and pronouncing each syllable with a stern tone, “manager’s gonna be pissed.” 

Dan rolled his eyes. “As if you can say that to me after what happened.”

“Not now-” Sam started, but stopped as he looked up and saw Dan marching angrily towards him. Dan raised his hands and pushed Sam back, who narrowly hit the wall. He raised his fist to punch Sam, but froze at the sound of his phone ringing. 

He quickly put his fist down at his side and rushed to his phone, which rested on his bedside table. He looked at the name on the phone. Manager. Dan huffed, considering not picking it up, since he knew he was about to get a terrible scolding. Hesitating, he pressed the green button, picking up the phone. He held it up to his ear. 

“Daniel, if you think for a second that you can go and do WHATEVERTHEFUCKYOUWANT you’re WRONG!” Dan cringed, since the sound coming out of the phone was deafening. The manager began to speak again, “YOUR CAREERS ARE FUCKED” Dan opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by his manager’s voice. 

“But. We’ll talk about that later. As for now, I found James.” Dan almost dropped his phone at this. Sam shot concerned glances at him, wondering what was happening on the other end of the phone. “WHERE IS HE?” shouted Dan. 

The manager explained everything. That there had been a ‘John Doe’ in the hospital, who was finally identified as the band member James Peterson. This band member had been shot, and had lost a lot of blood before arriving at the hospital. He was lucky to be alive. 

He was also awake and talking. 

And Dan decided he had to see him, even if he was still hungover and could do with being hospitalized.

\--

As they entered their flat, Adrian ran straight to his room, shoes still on, as Phil threw his keys in a bowl. Shrugging, Phil walked up to his own room, picking up a bottle of soda from the kitchen along the way, and sat down on his bed. Opening the soda bottle with one hand and dialing a number in the other, he took a deep breath and pressed the call button. It wasn’t until the fifth ring that she finally picked up. 

“Hello?” said a familiar voice. 

“Maureen,” said Phil, sternly, “Or was it Olivia?” He could sense her rolling her eyes wherever she was.

“Maureen’s fine,” she replied, clearing her throat, “so, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Adrian.”

“Oh, is he moody again?”

“You know about this?” Phil asked, surprised.

“I’m practically his mom at this point.”

“Ah, well can you at least tell me what’s up?”

“You guys went to his therapy session today right?”

“Mhm.”

“I would guess something went wrong there.”

“Wow,” said Phil, sarcastically, “I sure did not think of that when he stormed out of Dr. Gording’s office.” 

“Look, just take care of him okay? I got some other shit to deal with.” The phone then went silent.

“Maureen?” he asked, then he looked at his phone, she had hung up.

“Damnit,” Phil muttered under his breath as he headed towards Adrian’s room. As he got closer, he heard heavy metal music slowly get louder with every step he took. Sighing, Phil finally reached the door and knocked.

“Adrian?” He asked, not really think he’d get a response but a minute or two later, the music stopped as the door creaked opened and Adrian popped just his head out, like a cartoon.

“What do you want?”

“To talk, what else?”

Grunting, Adrian closed the door till only a millimeter of a gap remained.

“Goodbye my friend, will I ever love again?” he said, before he finally shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: we have create a fanfic server on discord! there's probably a lot but oh well, we wanted to create one where we can just talk about random fanfic shit
> 
> link to join: https://discord.gg/xB53baE


	10. Aftermath

    Dan rushed out of his limousine, despite being in a crisis situation, his privacy was still important, and ran into the lobby of the hospital where a small handful of the people waiting turned to look at him. To his surprise, no teenager ran straight up to him, but instead a somewhat angry looking middle-aged woman, who had a small child, no older than 10, clinging on behind her.

   “Muuuuum,” nagged the child, who was tugging on mum’s shirt, begging her to pull out of the situation that was about to unravel.

   “Quiet, Charlotte,” replied the mother harshly. She turned back to Dan, ready to rant about his wrongdoings, but Dan didn’t want to listen. Frankly, he had enough of everyone’s shit. He pushed past her, but the mother grabbed his arm with a death grip.

   “You’re a horrible role model.” Dan tried to shrug her off but to no avail. “Have you even _seen_ the news the past few weeks? The shit written about you there is horrifying.” Finally, Dan successfully got the mother off him and speed walked away, a look in his eyes showing that he was not afraid, but unnerved.

   “My kids won’t ever listen to your music again!” shouted the mom after him, grabbing her daughter’s sleeve and dragging her out of the building, all the while tears running down the young girl’s face. But Dan knew losing a fan (or a few) was the least of his problems. He just knew he had to get to him, the one who helped him gained his fans in the first place.

   Sneaking past the reception, he got into the first elevator that opened up, pushing past the actual sick people and doctors who nonchalantly crowded in after, not minding that the biggest ‘scandal’ at the moment was right beside them. Dan wiggled his phone out of his pocket and managed to type a few letters.

_Daniel Howell: hey what’s james’ room no._

_Pierce Blume: just asked manager, said it’s 5th-floor #208_

   Putting his phone back into his pocket, Dan shouted, “Is the button for the 5th floor pressed?”

   “Nah mate,” replied a voice in the front of the elevator, “you want me to press it? We’re on the 3rd floor-”

   “Yes!- I mean, yes please, sir.”

   “Alright then.” Dan could hear the button ding.

   The wait for the right floor felt like an eternity until finally he reached the 5th floor and pushed past everybody to get out. He began a sprint for room 208, and only slowed temporarily when he heard a nurse yelling after him. He reached the door and paused to catch his breath.

   His hand hovered over the doorknob, but Dan couldn’t bring himself to open it. What would he find inside? A smiling, happy James Peterson? A near-death pile of flesh and bones, already looking like the corpse he would soon be? No, he had to think positively. He placed his hand on the handle.

   Holding his breath, he pushed down.

\--

   Adrian paced in his room, the faint sound of Phil tugging on the locked door handle was the least of his worries. He jumped onto the bed face-down and hid under his pillow until Phil, at last, seemed to give up trying to open the door.

   He slowly rose from the bed, searching for his pills. They would help him sleep, they always helped him sleep. Adrian searched around in his room, slowly beginning to check each and every nook and cranny as it took longer, and longer, and longer...

   He realized he had left them on the kitchen counter; outside the door he had sworn to not step outside of. It seemed plausible, staying inside his room for 74 days before eventually dying of these “natural” causes. He flopped onto his bed, face first. Why was there a name on his arm? Why was there a time limit? And why would he have to die after?

    _Death_. The word seemed distant before, but now it almost was like it was on a train heading straight towards him at 200 kilometres an hour. Death was approaching, and it was either it or him. Who would take Adrian Lombard’s life first?

    _Life_. The word had seemed so close before, but now it was distant. Adrian tried to reach out to it, but every attempt would only result in it flying farther and farther away from him. It was slipping out of his reach, and sooner or later it would be completely out of sight, and all he would be able to see is black.

    _Black_. Darkness; Adrian loved it. It was comforting, which was something he’d never thought he’d say. For him, comfortable wasn’t an option. Uncomfortable was his lifestyle, and he had grown accustomed to it. The constant fighting between his alcoholic dad and drug addict mom was routine for him during his high school years. Samuel, his brother,  was already at college by the time they started fighting. It hit Sam hard, being away from home and all, but the trouble at home brought Samuel and Adrian closer together. Surprisingly, despite witnessing it every day, it didn’t affect Adrian that much. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was a good student anyways. He was okay, at the most.

    _Okay_. What everything wasn’t. Maybe he did have to break his swear.

\--

   After what had seemed like an eternity, Phil stopped banging on Adrian’s door and went to make some peppermint tea, Adrian’s favourite. Placing the water-filled kettle on the stove, he took a tea bag from the pantry and placed it in his favourite dinosaur mug. He sat atop his counter, ready for the kettle to start screaming at him. Phil pondered around for a while, as if he was still processing the week’s events. First, the name, then his parents, then Maureen, then the concert, and now Adrian. He shook his head; his life hadn’t been that busy since his university years. 67 days left, he thought to himself not long before the kettle screamed at such a high pitch that made his heart skip a little. Phil got up, took the kettle, and poured it into his mug, watching it immediately turn a light brown that emitted a sweet, minty aroma.

Phil could hear the faint sound of a door opening and closing in the background. He assumed it was just Adrian going to the bathroom andlooked towards the sound and almost called out his name, but decided against it, wanting to give him privacy. He turned back to the peppermint tea, still in his hand, and sighed. In just over a week, his life had gone to hell and back, and he knew there would be no recovering from the shit he’d been through.

Phil put his tea down, watching it slosh around in its mug. He went to find a book; perhaps entering another world would help distract him from reality. He found a small novel, one he read many times as a child. He walked back and sat in front of his piping hot tea. He opened it and let himself immerse in a story of heroes and villains and sorrow and happiness, and for the first time in a while, he smiled.

\--

   Phil closed the book he had been reading, satisfied by the story but miserable it was over. He put the book down and looked at his mug of tea, now lukewarm, and wondered how much time had passed. The sun had begun to set, and the house seemed like it was sleeping; there was absolutely no sound aside from his breathing. He yawned, disturbing the dead quiet in the house. It had been a long day, and Adrian had probably gone to bed. Phil decided he should do the same, but only after he showered. The events of the day made Phil feel disgusting and dirty, and he needed to wash them away and feel clean again.

   He picked up his mug of cold tea, poured it down the drain and rinsed the mug thoroughly before setting it down in the sink. He walked slowly to the bathroom, his steps heavy as if he could feel the immense weight he carried. By the time he reached the bathroom door, he was dying to take a long, cold shower and get the day over with.

His desires were soon shattered by a horrifying sight. Phil would’ve taken anything over what was waiting for him. The person he loved and cherished and would do anything for, maybe even die for, sprawled on the ground with a half-empty pill bottle in his sickly pale hand, his lifeless eyes staring straight at him.

  
“ _Adrian_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooooo boy, this chapter took way too long (sorry about that). The past two months have been extremely busy for us and we have our finals coming up in the next few weeks. Once summer starts we’ll probably be able to write longer chapters and update more often. The next chapter might take some time but we’ll try our hardest!
> 
> The Bruh, The Genie, and The Yam <3


	11. In A Snap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything could happen in such a short amount of time.

When Dan finally built up the courage to open the door, it immediately sank after only taking a quick glance, barely a millisecond, into the room. There lied James; it was as if he was dead. Attached to a breathing machine thing Dan hadn’t seen since his teenage years, the memories began to flood back. Dan let his head hang low, as tears began to form. When he looked back up, past the blurriness of the tears he didn’t see James anymore on that hospital bed. No, instead, he saw himself, 17 years old and seemingly full of life in a near death experience. It was like taking your first breath after drowning, only then wanting to have not survived. And suddenly Dan’s courage was no more, as he was still in the doorframe, hands shaking, grasping for the door handle once more, looking down at the floor. He just needed something to hold on to, anything to keep hoping. But it was no use, when Dan looked up again, he could’ve sworn that James opened his eyes.

“James-?” His phone began to ring. Letting one hand go off the door handle, he slipped it into his pocket to retrieve his phone. He froze even more (if that was possible) when he read who was calling. Their manager. Dan picked it up and held the phone to his ear.

“Mr Manter?”

“Dan, we need you back at the venue A-S-A-P.” His voice sounded urgent, almost vulnerable as if he needed Dan. 

“What’s the matter?” He could hear laughing at the other end of the line.

“The show must go on, Daniel.”

“Not without James,” Dan said sternly. The thought of leaving one of his best friends while they’re dying was too much for him.

“Dan, we’ve already cancelled the last two shows which, may I remind you, were all sold out venues. You gotta keep your head in the game. Comebacks don’t work for everyone.”

“It’s what James would want.”

“No, it’s not. When are you gonna snap out of it? This is your life now, and you’re under my orders, so get your ass back to the venue so we can do some last minute preparations.”

“But-”

“No buts. Remember, it’s your career on the line, not mine. And remember, if you don’t give those people a good show, including the press, you’re over,” And with that, his manager hung up. 

Teary-eyed and distraught, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, his manager was right. This is what his life was now, singing for other people to feel my content with themselves. Dan stood up straight, taking a deep breath, but when he thought he could hold it together, he broke. There were tears running down his face as if someone popped a water balloon in his eyes. Gripping his phone, Dan ran out of the hospital, passing by another person on a stretcher and their black-haired friend, who was frantically trying to keep up with the doctors. They glanced at each other, looking straight into each other’s eyes, having some sense of relating to one another. Even if it was only for a second, Dan had never been more comforted in his life.

 

— —

 

The next few seconds were a blur. Phil opened his mouth to wake Adrian up, to yell wake up wake up WAKE UP, but no words could form, as though his voice had been stolen. Phil could vaguely remember the siren screaming when it arrived at their small flat, the ride in the ambulance that felt like hours, when only a few minutes had passed, with the deafening siren overhead, the numbness and heartache he felt at the thought of losing his best friend as the ambulance slowed and coaxed to a stop. 

The hospital towered over the city but it wasn’t nearly as tall as the skyscrapers. Though filled to the brim with sick people, the building seemed to present itself with a peaceful atmosphere, which seemed to calm Phil a little bit even if he was sprinting 50 kilometres an hour to his friend’s uncertain fate. 

He tried to keep up with the paramedics, who were unfazed from the high-stakes career path they had ventured into. It was almost as if they were indifferent to the thought of a 50% percent chance. The doors were already wide open, held by people who waved their hands frantically, gesturing for them to go inside. Phil assumed they were nurses. 

As Phil ran into the hospital, he caught the eye of a brown haired person, tears in their eyes. Phil could almost see himself in him, as if they were going through the same thing. As if they knew each other’s pains. It was only a second, but when Phil returned to reality, he felt as if his nerves were much calmer than before, but Phil’s legs began to feel numb. They continued to move, which was the only thing that mattered to him; he wondered if he was getting used to the feeling. The paramedics turned around a corner with doctors pushing past Phil and disappearing as if it was a never-ending hallway, but when Phil turned the corner, he saw the paramedics and doctors alike pile into a room, forming a circle in the middle. 

Phil slowed into a fast walk, slowing down even more when he saw that a few of the nurses were blocking the door. As he approached, one of them turned around.

“Sir, you need to leave,” said the nurse, pushing him out of the room. Without replying, Phil stood off to the side of the door, where he finally felt blessed to be as tall as the doorway itself. He looked through the large window in front of him, struggling to see what was happening inside the room. He saw the paramedics transfer Adrian from the stretcher to the hospital bed. The nurses hooked multiple tubes, almost as thick as Phil’s fingers, and soon Adrian was surrounded by machines, most of them as big as he was. 

When the doctors and nurses finally left, Phil was left with a clear view of Adrian. He looked so small, skin incredibly pale, paler than Phil had ever seen it,  against the white sheets of his bed. There were tubes down his throat helping him breathe, trying to keep him alive, and Phil found this sight heartbreaking. 

   For the first time in his entire friendship with Adrian, he didn’t see a strong, powerful, confident person. He saw that Adrian was weak, lying there in nothing but a hospital robe, with an IV in his arm and tubes everywhere, and was being kept alive only by a machine. His pale skin alien to the colourful, lively complexion he was so used to. He was completely helpless. He seemed so small, so unimportant to the fate of the universe. 

   He put his hand on the glass separating him. He might be unimportant to the universe, but he was Phil’s entire world. And right now, he was the only thing keeping Phil alive, giving him hope. He was the reason Phil could stay strong through confusing and unfortunate times. 

He let his hand fall and slumped to the ground. If Adrian was gone, who would help him? Who would give him hope or support him? Who would keep him alive? 

He felt a wetness on his cheek. He reached up and felt tears streaming down his face. As his tears fell, so did his confidence and hope, washed away by sadness and despair. Adrian couldn’t die, it wasn’t possible. Maybe he’d wake up and it would all be a bad dream. He would rise from his bed and walk into the kitchen, where he’d find Adrian, happily making pancakes and tea. 

Yeah, he told himself, Adrian will wake up, he will be fine. But deep down inside him, Phil knew no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, nothing would persuade the things he’s witnessed in the past two weeks.

Still slumped to the floor, he turned to lean his back against the cold wall, and let himself fade away into the darkness of sleep.

 

— —

   

   Phil woke up to the sound of someone saying Adrian’s name. He shot up abruptly and looked around; none of the hospital staff seemed to have mind Phil simply sleeping on the floor. He stood up and looked through the window, where a single female doctor stood next to Adrian’s bed, clipboard in tow. 

   Curious, Phil walked into the room, being as inconspicuous as he could, but his plan failed as he saw that Adrian’s eyes were upon and when he finally saw Phil they widened. The doctor looked back, a blank stare on her face. She held out her hand to Phil, which he took.

   “Dr Manoban, I’m assuming you’re,” she looked at her clipboard. “Philip Lester? Adrian’s emergency contact?” Phil nodded, she smiled warmly. “You do that YouTube thing, don’t you?”

   “Uh,” Phil hesitated, unsure of how to respond to questions regarding his job. “I guess you could say that.”

   The doctor had a resounding look of relief on her face. “I thought I recognized you, my daughter is a big fan.” Phil, not knowing how to react, began fidgeting his hands and smiling as if that would provide some sort of adequate response. Dr Manoban returned checking on Adrian, occasionally writing things down on the clipboard. Phil walked up to Adrian, and he smiled as he came closer. The breathing machine was still over his mouth, but Phil could still see his grin beneath the mask.

   “He’s stable now,” said Dr Manoban, not taking her eyes off the clipboard. “But we’ll need to admit him to the psychiatric ward due to his past incidents with trauma and depression.”

   “How long will he be staying there?”

   Dr Manoban held her pen to her lips in deep thought. “I would say about two weeks at most. His therapist is,” she scanned the paper. “Dr Leo Gording?”

   “Yes-”

   “Don’t worry, we’ll be in contact with him to set up sessions with Adrian three times each week. You won’t have to do anything.”

   “May I ask why is Dr Gording needed?”

   “Mr Lombard is still considered a danger to himself, a therapist should help him recover quickly. Possibly even shortening his stay to a week.”

   Phil recalled the events of the last time Adrian had gone to see Dr Gording. He had rushed out of the room and insisted that they had to leave right away with such adamance. Phil wasn’t one to conspire, but he still had suspicions. “Will he need to see Dr Gording afterwards?”

   “Well,” Dr Manoban flipped over a few pages on her clipboard till she landed on one that Phil assumed was Adrian’s mental health records. “Considering his record of  not being able to comply with other therapists and that he’s only had one session with Dr Gording, we’d like to see how it goes with him before either changing his medication or referring him to another therapist.”

   Medication. Phil had hardly - almost never - seen Adrian open up a pill bottle of sorts. Hell, Phil doubted he ever took cold medicines when he was sick. But even so, Phil nodded and swallowed his arguments. He left the room when his phone began to ring. He picked it up after a few rings, not in any rush once he saw who was calling.

   “Maureen.”

   “Phil,” she sounded out of breath, as if she had been running for miles, or away from something, or someone. “I heard about Adrian.”

   “Wait how-?”

   “Listen, I have my ways. The important thing now is that he’s at the hospital and that Van Goth is having another concert tonight.”

   “And what’s that got to do with me?”

   “We need to go,” her voice sounded urgent. “Don’t you think I’ve been counting the days since you got that tattoo on your arm?”

   “Well, now that you mention it, you did run into me just two days after I got it.” Phil realized he had many questions for her, but he could tell it wasn’t the time.

   “You only have about sixty days left don’t you?”

   “Make that fifty-nine.”

   “We don’t need the specifics, all we need is your ass at the next Van Goth concert.”

   “Why are you even helping me? I thought that Adrian’s brother hired you to kill me.”

   “I-I,” she hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I cut off all contact with him, he doesn’t even know that I changed my name to Maureen.”

   “Legally?”

   “That doesn’t matter. I just don’t want to see him win, and neither do you.”

   Phil knew that Maureen was right; they both had the same end goal, and with all things considered, they needed each other to reach that. He sighed. “How about this, we’ll meet back at my apartment and talk about a game plan then. We’ll skip tonight’s concert, there’s still plenty more in their UK tour. Right now we need a course of action.”

   “And here I thought I was the secret agent. I’ll be there in ten.”

 

— —

 

   When Dan arrived at the venue it was already hectic enough, staff members were pushing multiple black boxes stacked on top of one another, a few others were fumbling with Pierce’s keyboard. Through the crowd, Dan could see his manager, Mr Manter, clearly shouting at a replacement drummer. He weaved through the crowd until their argument was audible. 

   “What do you mean, you didn’t learn the songs?”

   “With all due respect, Mr Manter, I only joined the tour crew a day ago and-”

   “Well, now you’re off the tour crew. Now get out of my sight!” He pointed to the door. The replacement drummer hung his head low and headed towards the door. Dan walked up to his manager.

   “Mr Manter?” He turned around, brows still furrowed.

   “Dan, good you’re here now. You’re up on stage for a quick sound check.”

   “What about the drummer?” Dan asked as his manager began to push him towards the stage.

   “We’ll just play a backing track of the drums, we have no time for this. GO!” Dan did as instructed, joining Sam and Pierce who were already playing with their instruments. Pierce nodded at Dan as he climbed on stage while Sam kept concentrating on his guitar. Their manager appeared at the bottom of the stage, now equipped with a bullhorn. He shouted into it.

   “Everyone quiet! Soundcheck in 3...2...1-”

   And they began to play the chorus of their title track, Sam playing each chord with all his heart, Pierce gracefully gliding his fingers on his keyboard, and the backing track perfectly imitating what a live drum performance would sound like. It was like James was right there, behind Dan. He took a deep breath and pressed his lips to the microphone. 

_ “If you love me, never let me go, _

_ don’t let me fall like the beautiful snow. _

_ I just want you to know, _

_ I love you and I’ll never let you go.” _

 

As they made their way into the bridge of the song, Dan closed his eyes as he released each word with a bit of his soul.

 

_ “And when you finally let me go, _

_ will you see the snow the way I did before? _

_ Will your heartbeat be the same tempo as before? _

_ Will you hold on to him the same way you held me before?” _

 

Dan finally opened his eyes when the music stopped, no one bothered to pay attention to their soundcheck as they continued with their tasks. Their manager was nodding into a phone call. Dan looked back on both of his remaining bandmates and smiled. Their manager came up on stage and called them into a huddle.

“Okay, look. I called your PR and they’ve managed to secure most magazines to come to the event so you need to be on your best. Show them that you’re still Van Goth, no matter how many members,” he looked at Dan. “Show them that you can bounce back.” As their manager walked away along with Pierce, Sam turned to Dan.

“Did you visit James?” Dan nodded, pressing his lips together. 

“He’s doing all right.” A lie.

“That’s good to hear, I’m sure he would want to see us still performing, don’t you think?” Sam patted his back.

“Yeah, definitely.” Another lie.

“I’m gonna head backstage, have a shot or two. You wanna come?” Dan shook his head.

“I’d rather be sober for this show.” Sam shrugged.

“Don’t worry, this’ll be the most memorable show. I promise,” he said as he walked backstage. 

“Yeah,” Dan whispered to himself. “This will be a memorable show.” 

 

— —

 

   Phil sat on their breakfast bar while Maureen helped herself to a cup of tea, rummaging through their cabinets to find the tea bags. Once she found them, she plopped it into a mug and poured the boiling water from the kettle in. Phil began to tap the counter impatiently.

   “So,” he began. “What’s our plan?”

Maureen didn’t look up at him as she stirred milk and sugar into her mug. “Well, you could say we’re kind of on the run.”

“What?”

She sighed. “Knowing Sam, after that night he probably made security watch out for a short girl with curly blonde hair, a tall dude with black hair, and Adrian.” 

Phil was confused. “Where are you getting at?”

Maureen sipped her tea. “We need disguises.”

“Like glasses or something? Maureen, I’m not Clark Kent-”

“No you idiot,” she interrupted, setting down her mug in a way that made a little bit of it spill. “I’ve called one of your YouTube friends, she’ll help us tomorrow.” 

“With what exactly?”

“Changing our identities,” she took a credit card out of her pocket and slid in on the counter towards Phil. He picked it up. ‘Michael Casper’ it read. 

“I’m not an escaped convict.”

“But we need to take the same precautions. A big name such as Samuel Lombard has eyes everywhere, even in bank records. You are no longer Philip Lester until we are safe, and until Sam loses.” Phil turned the card around in his hands.

“Okay, I have a different name now and a credit card to go along with it. So why did you feel the need to call a friend? This isn’t Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.” Phil felt somewhat peaceful reminding himself of his old videos, back when he didn’t have to care about kissing some band member. 

Maureen leaned against the counter. “The identity changing doesn’t just stop there, Phil,” a devilish grin was plastered onto her face. “We’ll  need to look the part too.” She took another thing out of her pockets when Phil saw what they were, his jaw dropped. Hair colour swatches. 

 

— —

 

   Usually, at this point in their concerts, Dan would be exhausted, out of breath, and slightly off-key. But not this time. Their setlist was coming to a close as they prepared to perform one of their acoustic songs. They were given seats to sit on but Dan prefered to stand up, it helped with the last minute thoughts he was having of going through with his plan. Dan smiled at the screaming crowd as Sam replaced his usually electric guitar for an acoustic one instead. As he tuned it, Dan addressed the crowd.

“How are we feeling tonight?” The crowd screamed. “Sadly, this is the last song in our setlist, but we had a fucking good time singing for you guys tonight. So are you ready?” More screaming. Dan turned to Sam, he nodded in confirmation and began to strum. Dan turned back to his microphone and closed his eyes, gripping the microphone and the stand tightly.  

 

_ “Even when you’re the one gone I still feel like the dead one. _

_ Closing my eyes, counting to ten or sometimes till they day was gone. _

_ That was before you were gone. _

_ Running around my backyard listening to 90s hip hop and dancing till our legs wouldn’t move anymore. _

_ Till our parents had to come carry us in their arms. _

_ When I had you in my arms.” _

 

   Dan let go of everything and let the song guide him. He slowly swayed from one side to the other, feeling a bit dizzy and overwhelmed. The usually rowdy crowd listened solemnly as Dan held back tears. He gripped the microphone tighter, as if it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing. His breath was hot and his tongue dry, but he kept singing. 

   When the song ended, there were no shouts, no screaming, no cries. No, there was clapping, there was a wave of applause from the audience, some with glassy eyes. The press began to take photos, bright flashing lights aimed mostly at Dan, realizing his cheeks were damp with tears.

   “Thank you guys for coming!” shouted Sam, even without his microphone, it was enough for the crowd to feed off on and start to go crazy once again.

   Dan wiped the sweat off his forehead as a smile began to appear on his face. They had just finished their set for the first time with only three members. Taking in deep breaths, he turned to look at the wings of the stage where their manager stood, arms crossed. Dan’s smile immediately disappeared as his manager mouthed something. Despite all the crazy lighting, Dan could easily tell what he was saying. “Remember what we discussed earlier.”

   Dan swallowed and looked back at his bandmates who were too focused smiling and waving at the crowd as they stood up, preparing to get off the stage. He turned his attention to the energetic crowd, coughing into the microphone and watched as waves of silence suddenly washed over the audience. Murmurs could still be heard from those in the mosh pit. Dan took his microphone off the stand and held it tightly with both hands. Fragments of nervous laughter escaped his throat. More phones were raised in the air and the flashing of lights almost became unbearable.

   “Hey guys,” Dan began, he knew exactly what he was going to say, so why couldn’t the words just come out? The crowd had cold hard gazes that stuck in Dan’s mind. “FUCK!” He shouted. Gasps ran through the crowd as Dan’s vision shattered. He sat down on his stool slowly, using the microphone stand as a guide. With his vision blurred, the flash of the cameras began to blind him, but Dan didn’t care. He wasn't shot. He could still breath. He wasn’t in a hospital bed while his 3 closest friends were practically partying. Dan pushed the microphone to his lips.

   “Look, I’d be the first one to admit that some fucked up shit’s been happening,” he said, his tone casual. “First, one of our bandmates is shot, then the next thing we know is that he’s in a coma while we’re here playing songs written by him that should have been performed with him tonight. It’s not fair. And really, the word isn’t, but with what we can do, we can make it a fair place. But you know what, we didn’t. We performed without him anyways as if he were just a forgotten piece of trash that could just be thrown away in this industry.” Dan could feel his temples heart up with every word. He looked at the crowd, his vision starting to clear up, only to see that no one was holding their phones up anymore, no one was holding up their signs anymore. Barely any of the press dared to take one more photo. All the flashes were replaced by them scribbling every single one of his words into their notepads as if he were reciting his phone number aloud.

   “It’s not fucking fair!” He continued. “While we’re living it up in here James Christopher Peterson is practically sinking into his own casket, and we’re the ones digging the hole for it.” Dan finally stood back up again, his knees buckling. he turned to look at his two bandmates only to see them being escorted off the stage by security guards. When Dan faced the audience again, many began to pile through the doors, most with disgusted (or horrified, Dan couldn’t tell) faces. The ones who stayed came close to the stage, mostly press. Those who came as fans had their eyes hopeful for Dan’s rant to be some publicity stunt or prank of sorts. Dan could already imagine their disappointed faces. 

   “WE DID THIS,” he screamed. Even though his microphone was far from his mouth, his voice was loud enough for it to reach the back, where no one stood anymore. Dan began to sob. Hard. His free hand moved to support his head, which was on the verge of falling to the ground, willing to drag his body with it. “It’s our fault, it’s our fault, it’s our fault. It’s my fault, I let it happen.” Dan dropped his microphone and cupped his face when two hands landed on his shoulder and began pushing them with enough force for Dan to be able to tell it was his manager. Dan hoped he was pushing him to hell. Because he knew, if James didn’t wake up from his coma, he didn’t deserve to be in heaven with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s nice to be back after a two month hiatus (which was totally unplanned sorry about that). 
> 
> All three of us have been around in different time zones (because it’s summer!), making it hard for us to work on the story with all three authors in agreement with where it’s going.
> 
> Hopefully this 4k+ word chapter makes up for the wait! 
> 
> The Bruh, The Genie, and The Yam


	12. True Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Dan save his career? What will Phil do to save himself? Find out in this new chapter (published on our first birthday!)

“What - the HELL were you thinking?” shouted their manager, who was pacing in his office. It was the morning after the concert, and the consequences of last night had finally began to take action. Most of the media outlets got photos and videos of the event, spreading them all over the internet. Social media had been buzzing with divided opinion. It was either ‘#DanWasRight’ or ‘#VanGone.’ But right now, that didn’t matter. What mattered now was the next few sentences that would come out of their manager’s mouth. Dan was sitting in the middle of both of his bandmates in front of Mr Manter’s desk. He pointed straight at Dan, almost climbing over the table.

“What the fuck made you think that was a good idea?” he hissed. Eyes bloodshot, probably from staying up reading all those articles with headlines, such as ‘Van Goth Is OVER?’, ‘Daniel Howell Completely LOSES It!’ and ‘Is Daniel Howell Living In Britney Spears’ 2007?’.

“I-I-I-” Dan stuttered only to be cut off.

“NOTHING. Nothing should’ve convinced you in that pretty little head of yours that that little stunt of yours wouldn’t affect your career,” he gestured to the whole group. He started pacing again. “We need something, something that will distract the fans from your stupidity. Something big and shocking. Something that will shift the press’ focus from the idiocy of last night back to something cheery. Something to promote the band....” His voice trailed off. He was rambling on more to himself more than to the band members, but they dared not interrupt him and face his wrath. 

Mr Manter grumbled, pacing faster, which seemed to be his thinking process. He stopped suddenly, making Dan’s heart skip a beat, and rushed over to grab his phone on the desk. He opened it, clicked on ‘Contacts’, and started skimming through them. Finally, his finger hovered over one name that would save his career, and pressed call. A few seconds passed before Mr Manter spoke again. 

“Jenny?”, said Mr Manter. A muffled voice, high and cheery, could barely be heard through the speaker, though it could not be understood by the band members sitting a few feet away. “Damn, is it good to hear your voice. It’s been so long; we have to meet up sometime!” More muffled sounds could be heard. Mr Manter chuckled with fake enthusiasm. “Tonight, let me pick you up, I have someone I want you to meet.” He smiled and hung up.

“Dan? Get ready, cuz’ you have a date tonight.”

\--

“I don’t want to do this,” Phil groaned as he tapped his card on the gate. He and Maureen were in the tube station, heading to his friend’s house. Her YouTube channel was filled with hair dying videos, her hair now a berry red to match the winter festivities. 

Maureen pulled out her phone and typed in a few letters. “She’s expecting us already; she’s got the dye all sorted out!”

Phil could feel his stomach float. His black hair and fair skin was his thing, it was part of the Amazing Phil brand that he had kept up all these years. His black hair was sacred to his views, if he were to change it...

“Can you at least tell me what colour it’s gonna be?” Phil asked, speeding up his pace to catch the train just arriving in front of them. Maureen shook her head.

“Nuh-uh. I’m gonna try and have some fun with this.” Both of them stepped off the platform and into the train just as the doors were about to close. The tube wasn’t too busy this time a day, most people just going to some sort of brunch or meeting, so both Maureen and Phil were able to sit comfortable, not squished between two strangers with multiple shopping bags on each side.

“Ohhhhh, you’re gonna have fun with this huh? I sure didn’t have fun being kidnapped and held at gunpoint while being tied to a chair.” Maureen rolled her eyes.

“Are you gonna keep that over my head?” Maureen murmured in a snappy tone. Phil smirked.

“Just like you held that gun to my head.” Maureen took a deep breath and began to play on her phone, ignoring Phil who smiled and leaned back in her seat. But behind the smile was fear, that day, she he betrayed him, who’s to say she won’t again? The reassurance she had given him had been nice, but somewhere, deep down in Phil’s brain, doubted her nice act. He thought that he should try pulling on her hair just in case it was another wig. He tugged at the end.

“Ow!” She flinched away, bumping into the person sitting next to her. Maureen apologized and turned back to Phil. “The hell was that for?” He shrugged.

“Just making sure this hair is real.” Maureen rubbed at her scalp where the strands Phil pulled at were.

“You’re such a child,” she looked at the doors which were about to open. She stood up. “Come on, it’s our stop.”

Both of the exited the train and headed to the nearest exit, where Phil’s friend would be waiting. He was anxious, he hadn’t seen her in a while, much less talked to her online. His fans had been wondering when they would do a collaboration together, but that day is hopefully not today. They tapped their cards to exit the gates. Phil looked around the station before his eyes landed on a particular woman with somewhat pink hair carrying a baby in a mint green blanket He tapped on Maureen’s shoulder and gestured for her to follow him. As they approached, the woman looked up from her baby and smiled at Phil.

“Phil!” she said, her smiling revealing the gap in her teeth. She went in for a one armed hug, careful to move around the baby.

“Louise, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” She turned to Maureen. “And you must be?”

 

“Maureen, the one you talked to on the phone.”

“Oh yes! I remember your voice now,’ she bobbed the baby on her hip. Maureen did a little wave.

“Sooooo,” Phil said, placing his hands in his pockets. “Are we really doing this?” The two women looked at Phil then at each other and finally back to Phil with a smirk on both of their faces. Phil sighed; he already knew what was bound to happen.

Louise led them through the maze of an train station till they finally reached the street her flat was on. Phil trailed behind as Maureen and Louise were having a conversation on Maureen’s past. Phil doubted she would be honest. 

“We’re here!” exclaimed Louise, opening the door to her flat. It was in quite disarray; instructions for a crib that was lousily built in the corner were spread across the floor, powder was spread across the counter from a trail leading to a tipped over baby formula can, and plates were stacked high in the sink. Phil took in how messy her apartment was, and then looked at where Louise and Maureen began to head to: the bathroom.

Phil followed suit, moving forward by shifting his feet ever so slightly as if it would stop what was inevitably about to happen. The bathroom wasn’t as messy as the rest of her flat. The bottles were lined up in the shower shelf and space had been made on the sink for an opaque black bottle, of what Phil could only assume was the dye, a brush, a pair of gloves, and a black bowl. Louise closed the toilet lid and patted it down. 

“You ready?” Phil swallowed. At least he had some chance of being the K-Pop idol he always wanted to be.

 

\--

Jenna Bertrand stood in front of her full-length mirror, nervously fidgeting with the seventeenth dress she had tried on so far. Today was an important day, the day her career would skyrocket and Van Goth would be saved. She had to look flawless.

Mr Manter had explained the plan over the phone a few hours after his first call. He told her that in order to save Dan’s career, they could date and distract the fans and media from the night before. Jenna remembered how she had watched the hundreds of fan recordings of Dan on that stage, pouring his heart out to his fans and not thinking of the consequences. 

The plan had an upside for her as well. Going out with the lead singer of one of the most popular boy bands in Britain would bring lots of fame and fortune to her name. It would put her songs on the radio, especially if she collaborated with Van Goth. Even if she preferred women, she’d gone out with many men in the past and she was fine with being with Dan, maybe even a little excited.

Jenna sighed and looked herself over. She had on a dark blue floor length dress with beading patterns. Concealed underneath the dress she wore sneakers, since her poor feet couldn’t handle the high heels she was expected to wear to the fancy restaurant Dan would take her to, the name of which she couldn’t even begin to try and pronounce. 

Jenna felt satisfied with her dress, and had no idea what to do with her hair. She decided on butchering her worn-out hair with a flat iron and leaving it down. She walked to the bathroom and started to straighten her long, brown hair, almost burning her perfectly tanned skin twice because of how much her hands were shaking. 

She put the flat iron down and picked up her most extravagant and expensive earrings. She slowly slipped them onto her ears and nervously smiled to herself in her bathroom mirror. After hours, she was finally ready. 

\--

After much argument with Mr Manter, Dan finally gave in to his requests. After all, ‘manager knows best’, or at least that's what Mr Manter kept repeating. He decided to give it a shot, since his career was almost beyond saving. Maybe this shot in the dark would hit the bull’s eye. 

Samuel had left the room immediately after Mr Manter announced Dan was going to go on a date with Jenna Bertrand, an up-and-coming singer that had known Mr Manter in high school. Pierce had been speechless, and sat there for the rest of their conversation silently. Dan had been furious, but soon enough he saw that maybe this plan could work. He could deal with this ‘Jenna’ girl for a few months, hopefully less. He just hoped he could fool the press. 

\--

“I hate it,” mumbled Phil on his way back to his flat with Maureen. They were walking together on a fairly empty street. It was a gloomy day; it had rained a few hours ago and the streets were still wet. The air was humid and felt heavy. Phil could feel the moisture in the air with every breath he took. 

“I hate the color, I hate the length, and I hate my name. I mean, ‘Michael’? I definitely don’t look like a Mike. Maybe a Jefferson, or maybe Thomas!” he rambled on. 

“Well, learn to like it. You’ll have no choice. Speaking of, take this.” Maureen stopped and gave Phil a card. “It’s a driver’s license. You’re gonna need some sort of ID.” Phil looked at the card. It had a picture of him with his recently dyed light blonde purple hair- it was hard to describe.

Phil was surprised and confused. “How the hell could you have taken this picture? I dyed my hair just an hour ago!” Phil looked closely at the picture again, and couldn’t remember any instance where Maureen could’ve taken it since he dyed his hair. 

Maureen chuckled. “Lets just say… a little photoshop goes a long way.” She winked at him and started walking faster. Phil had to jog a little to keep up. 

“Slow down, we aren’t in a rush.” Phil nagged, but Maureen sped up more. “Maureen, wha-”

She cut him off. “That guy behind us-”, Phil looked back to see a man in his mid-20s with a black hoodie and navy pants a few meters away from them. “Don’t look back!”, Maureen hissed. “He’s been following us ever since we left your YouTube friend’s house.” She looked worried, and turned her head slightly to Phil. “How far is your flat?”, she asked in a hushed voice.

Phil began to worry that this was one of Sam’s henchmen. “Just around this corner, it’s coming up.” Phil walked as fast as he could without seeming suspicious. They turned the corner and saw Phil’s flat across the street. 

They crossed the street, almost being hit by a car that honked at them as it passed, and reached the entrance of his building. They quickly dove into the building and waited for their pursuer. 

\--

Dan refused to get out of the car. He didn’t want to greet her. Hell, he didn’t even want to look at her. Mr Manter didn’t care about that, though. He was going to go on this date whether he liked it or not. Mr Manter grumpily walked outside to greet Jenna. 

Mr Manter rang the doorbell and turned to glare at Dan, who was waiting impatiently in the sleek black SUV that was to escort them to the fancy restaurant. He turned back to the door and could hear light, quick footsteps behind it. 

He heard the door unlock before it opened. Inside, he could see Jenna, so much older and more beautiful than when he last saw her, in high school. Mr Manter had secretly had a crush on her since he first saw her at the age of four. 

“Matthew! It’s been so long!” Jenna exclaimed as she went to hug him. 

Mr Manter breathed in her flowery perfume as she embraced him. “It’s so nice to see you, Jenny. Especially with everything that’s been going on.” He let go of Jenna and glanced back at the car where Dan was waiting, not even looking in their direction. 

“Is that him?” Jenna asked in a hushed tone. She glanced at Dan. Through the window, she could see that Dan was much more handsome than she thought. Mr Manter nodded. He was slightly annoyed by how Jenna looked at Dan in awe, since he was still bitter that he never got a chance with her in grade school. 

“Well, let’s go then,” said Jenna, already walking toward the car. Mr Manter opened the door to the seat next to Dan. Jenna climbed in and Mr Manter sat next to the driver. The ride to the restaurant was silent. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. 

Dan dreaded the moment they would arrive at the restaurant. He hated the idea of having to talk with Jenna and act in love with her. Sure, she was beautiful, but not his type. He stared out the window and wished that he could be anywhere but there. 

Dan saw the restaurant a few blocks before they reached it. The driver opened the door for Jenna and Dan, and they walked inside together. Mr Manter watched from inside the car, longing to be the one next to Jenna.

Dan opened the huge glass door for Jenna, and she walked through. The hostess was shocked, but hid her surprise as she said, “Table for two?”

Dan nodded and the hostess grabbed two menus. She turned and walked toward a table near the back of the restaurant next to a window looking out at the skyline of the city. She placed the two menus down at both seats and walked away. Dan went to pull out Jenna’s chair, but she had already pulled it out and sat down. Dan stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before taking a seat. 

He looked around the restaurant. He could already see many surprised faces, some with mouths gaping wide open. He also saw many people with phones aimed his way. Good, he thought. The more publicity they got, the better. He turned back to Jenna just as their server brought a basket of bread and butter. 

Dan nodded in thanks to the server as he left. He reached for a roll of bread just as Jenna did. Their hands brushed and they both pulled back. They sat there for a few minutes before Dan worked up the courage to take the roll of bread. He put it on his plate and nervously put butter on it. He raised it to his mouth as Jenna said, “You know, we’re going to have talk during our date, right?”

Dan put his bread down before he could bite it. “It’s just hard, you know? Going on a date with somebody you’ve never met before. It’s kinda scary. I just don’t want to mess this up for either of us,” he mumbled. 

Jenna reached over and took his bread from his plate. She took a bite and put it back down where it had been. She grinned at him. “Well, we have to act like we’re in love. Fake it ‘till you make it, right?” Her smile faded away as she stared at him. 

Dan took a deep breath and nodded. He opened his mouth to say something just as their server arrived with a notebook and pen in hand. 

“Ready to order?”, he said in a distinct accent. Dan opened his mouth to speak, but Jenna spoke before him. “We just need a few more minutes,” she said as she smiled at him. Dan was amazed at how her grin could disarm anyone who saw it. 

The waiter smiled and walked off. Jenna’s smile faded and she picked up the menu in front of her. Dan did the same. 

“I was thinking maybe a caesar salad? Seems like the cheapest and healthiest thing on this menu,” said Jenna, closing her menu. Dan looked up from his menu and scoffed.

“We come to a fancy restaurant and you want a caesar salad? Nuh-uh, not when you could get the same thing at the grocery store for half the price. I’m going to get the…” Dan paused for a few moments and squinted at the menu. “...the… vegan… char-, nevermind, I’ll get the lamb pasta.” He closed the menu and smiled. “At least I’ll be able to pronounce that.”

Jenna smiled at him and closed her menu. She waved to the waiter, who promptly walked over, taking out his pen and notebook. He turned to Dan and said, “What would you like, sir?”

Dan ordered for himself and the waiter turned to Jenna. “And for you, missus?” 

Jenna ran her hand through her hair and said, “The cae-”, but was cut off by Dan, who spoke up before she could finish. 

“She’ll have the steak special, with extra mashed potatoes and gravy,” Dan quickly said. The waiter hesitated, but when Jenna didn’t counter what he had said, he wrote it down and smiled at them. He walked off to serve another table. 

Jenna rolled her eyes and smiled sadly at him. Dan smiled back and they sat in silence, not uttering a single word as they solemnly stared at one another as if in a game to see whose armour would break down first. Dan lost. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. 

Jenna looked up, surprised, she had been touching up hip lipstick in a small compact decorated with various gems. “For what?”, she cautiously asked. 

“I don’t like dating,” Dan said, looking down at his hands resting on the table since he couldn’t bear to look up at her. 

Jenna snapped her compact close and put it back in her purse. “It’s fine, nor do I.” She lowered her head. “Especially when it’s fake,” she added. 

Dan threw his hand up, he could hear the shutter of cameras surround them like in a ritual. He leaned in to the table. “That’s not what I mean.” More camera shutters and this time Jenna noticed them too. She leaned in, forcing the corners of her lips to curl up as she smoothly brushed Dan’s hand with her own over the table. He felt goosebumps rise up. 

“What are you doing?” he blatantly asked. She sighed and stood up, moving her chair to sit beside him and sat back down. The flashes from the cameras became more intense. She leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Making it believable.” Despite feeling uncomfortable, Dan knew she was doing what she had to. This would benefit both of their careers; a scandalous band member with an up and coming singer-songwriter? What more could they ask for?

Dan forced a smile and whispered back, “I’m gay.” 

\--

“He’s gonna attack us, he’s gonna attack us. I am going to die with blonde-purple hair,” said Phil who was leaning against the door of his building. They had quickly slipped in without suspicion, but Maureen still insisted that they wait until their follower was gone before they could be safe. She patiently looked outside the window, holding her position for the past 30-minutes.

“There is a possibility we might die today, but he’s only been taking selfies and running around in circles for the past twenty minutes. So unless he has some blinding flash on that thing, our deaths won’t be happening anytime soon.” Phil looked outside the other window; the door had one on either side. As soon as his face appeared in the window, their pursuer began to squeal. Loudly. Loud enough for their neighbour to join them and walk outside to chase him away. Still, he came back. 

“I’ve got to hand it to him, he’s persistent,” said Maureen. They had finally decided to go up to Phil’s flat and were now looking down on the man from his living room window. Phil had made both of them some tea, and were now sipping on them quietly as the background noises of the news channel on his television played.

“Persistent or not, I’m not sleeping until he stops taking selfies.”

Maureen scoffed, “That’ll probably not be until his camera roll fills up, look.” She pointed to him. Phil got up from the couch and walked to the window. The man was now filming with his phone and a makeshift tripod of his backpack and other things he found around the building. The lens was pointing straight up at Phil’s flat. 

“He’s insane.” 

“I’ve seen worse,” Maureen said, setting her cup of tea on the coffee table. “I’ll go take care of him.” Phil sank back into the couch and saluted. 

“Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 
> 
> So sorry about the super long wait again! Hopefully, this 3.8k word chapter will make up for it! 
> 
> On a happier note, it’s our fanfiction’s first birthday! (i think u mean baby)  
> As of today, it has officially been one full year since we published our first chapter! It seems fitting to publish on the same day we published exactly a year ago :). (unfortunately, not at the same time, we forgot about our baby for a sec, whoops)
> 
> We love to look back and see how much we’ve grown as writers and as people(we’re still terrible) in this past year. It hasn’t been easy and we’ve had our struggles and this year we will (hopefully) commit more time to publishing our chapters quicker so you guys can enjoy them!
> 
> Most importantly, we want to thank all of you for all the support and lovely comments you leave on our stories. They mean so much to us and really make our day when you tell us how much you’ve enjoyed it. It really makes it seem that us writing this is worthwhile and that we are affecting other people and changing how you guys think! 
> 
> Again, we love you and will never stop loving you or this fanfiction, and will definitely see it through ‘till the end! (and publish some more stories afterward)
> 
> Social Media:
> 
> Twitter: bruhgenieyam  
> Instagram: bruhgenieyam  
> Email: bruhgenieyamofficial@gmail.com  
> Snapchat: bruhgenieyam  
> Tumblr: bruhgenieyam
> 
> As always, be sure to check us out on there! We’d appreciate it if you stop by and wish our baby a happy birthday!
> 
> Damn I got so emotional writing this xD (the bruh)
> 
> The Bruh, The Genie, and the Yam


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